Therapy Session Notes
diego cerda
why are you here?
Shrug.
Have you been to therapy before?
Chuckle.
Tell me about …
“I’d like to make it clear, that I think this is all bullshit.”
This?
“Talking”
“Sharing”
Therapy is bullshit or talking and sharing is?
Chuckle.
Do you find expressing…
“I’m perfectly fine, I don’t need this.”
You beat a man for no apparent reason.
“There was a reason.”
What was it?
“I was drunk.”
Are you often drunk?
“Only when I’m pissed off.”
Are you often pissed off?
Shrug.
What pisses you off?
Eyes fixated on floor, palms on knees.
What pissed you off that night?
Did the man do, say something…
“the kid.”
Which kid?
“always fucking crying.”
Him crying made you angry?
“his sobs made me angry, like a little child. Could have cried anywhere else.”
“These kids, they got no reason to cry. But that’s all they do nowadays.”
If he was older, it would have been all right for him to cry?
“If he was older, he wouldn’t have been crying.”
When’s the last time you cried?
Clears throat.
What were you thinking of before you beat that man?
Stares at ceiling.
Were you thinking about the kid?
Nods.
Were you jealous of him?
Eye contact: aggression
Do you often express emotions violently?
“It’s all I know.”
Who taught you that?
“Cowboys.”
I’m going to prescribe a contemporary therapeutic exercise,
It can be performed here, I’ll only need your heart.
Side effects may include crying outside apartments.
Do you consent?
“Does it work?”
I’ve never done it.
He hands me the key to his heart.
Removes his shirt.
I make a small incision over his heart,
Open the flap of skin.
There’s a rusty lock, I insert the key, struggle to get it open.
Behind it hides: his heart- purple
about to burst.
“Be gentle.”
I poke it.
Out spills:
Crumpled packs of Marlboros.
Sertraline.
Black eyes.
An AR-15.
Pornography.
Locker-room conversations.
Tyler Durden.
Jack Daniels.
John Coltrane’s trumpet.
A c minor chord
Ladies perfume.
the moon
poem written on a hotel pad.
a G.I Joe
bicycle with training wheels
Santa Claus.
a puddle of tears,
a rapid river of tears.
his chair floats above the water,
my pad is drenched, the ink running.
we take in a deep breath before submersion.
I reach for my notepad as it floats away, he hands me a pen.
Crying.
Diego Cerda is a senior at UTEP, currently studying creative writing and music. Diego spends most of his time working on his two passion projects: his band: Big Cinnamon and writing fiction and poetry.
