Hookers and Therapist
“ You look at me for answers, when I’m coming to you for answers. why am I fucked up, why do I wake up hating myself more than I started? And what do you do, you just scribble on a fucking piece of paper, and ask me how that fucking makes me feel. You wanna know how that makes me feel, I’ll tell you, but tell me it’s not about the money, tell me it’s not about making a payment on that new car, only then I’ll let you in, so tell me, can you do that?
“ I think you have trust issues, Max.” The man on the sofa who claimed to be a friend, a friend who charged by the hour was sweating beads as his patient confronted him.
“ Trust issues, is that the cover story we’re using now to be a compulsive liar?” Max chuckled.
“ You create these false insecurities to keep yourself restricted from sharing, from letting anyone in. In your mind everyone one is an enemy. Look how quickly you jumped at me, just because you pay me, doesn’t mean I don’t care.”
“ Doc, if you pay a hooker to fuck you, does that mean she loves you?”
“ What does it have to do with anything?” The shrink said to Max.
“ Tell me, Doc, will you sit down with me and talk, when we’re not on the clock?” The shrink began to clear his throat, that told him all he needed to know.
“ I have to keep things professional, Max. It’s not fair to the others.”
“ Right there, Doc.” He pointed at the shrink. “ Same line a hooker would use.” The session was over.