Netflicks Is A Good Thing

I'm going out my skin.

I wrote an e-mail to someone,a woman, a woman I've thought about a lot. She wrote back, which was unexpected, and only a day later at that. I was excited. I replied and, now, I'm playing that waiting game. So delicate: can't write back, can't check my e-mail too often, can't keep from going nutso.

It's funny because, from the outside, I seem like a pretty normal guy.

I had my last appointment with the shrink-lady today. I call her that, I know, because it sounds a little less touchy-feeley and I'm trying to be nonchalant about the whole thing, but let's face it, she's my therapist. At least, she was. It was a temporary set up and I have to find a new one now if I want to continue, which, by everyone's opinion, including my own, I should. I need someone to keep pushing me to keep Mimi away. Don't answer her calls, don't write to her, don't go to the places where she might be. This is harder than you think. She put a hell of a mind-bender on me to make it seem like avoiding her was immature and inappropriate behavior instead of good, old fashioned self preservation. Back to the shrink though-- therapist, that is-- my therapist. At the end of the call she said: "Look, you sound like a VERY nice man, and I wish you luck." That meant a lot. That-- after 8 sessions of chugging through emotional turmoil and pain-- THAT actually made me cry.

Weird.