Self Therapy

Massive and intricate guitar rifts seep from a record player in the corner. James sits sadly in his baby blue chair. His phone vibrates violently but he is hesitant to see who wants what. It's a sweet message from a sweet girl and though he returns a tender message to her no smile comes to his face and the heaviness of his heart is only multiplied. As if knowing his mood, the record player emits lyrics of love and love lost. If it weren't for the creative insight this depression is teamed with, James would have sought out professional help years ago. As it was, he took the decent with the terrible even with the realization that the product was nowhere near worth the mark-up.

It's the time of the day when James stares out of his window longingly at the horizon contemplating whether or not to write about how the green treeline accents the clear blue sky or to dive out of the window- head first. He had gained a lot of self control after dealing with this for so many years . He had come a long way from jabbing safety pins into his thigh just to cry and feel a pain from outside rather than within.

His phone still going off and feelings of jealousy seeping in, James does what is most therapeutic to him. He snatches up his notebook and pencil. The first sentence is always hard for him but he knows that once he starts it will all flow out smoothly. He sits thinking for several minutes then looks over at his record player. He puts the pencil to the paper and begins, "Massive and intricate guitar rifts seep from a record player in the corner."