Dear God, Why Am I So Well-Adjusted???

"You want what?" The therapist folded his hands and stared at me intently.

"I want a disorder" I said. "People will listen to me if they think there's something wrong. Can you just diagnose me with something?"

"That's not really how it works."

"Look. I'm fucked up. I can prove it! Sometimes I pay to see one movie at the theater, then when it ends, I sneak into another one. Without paying!"

"See, that's not a disorder. It's just slightly immoral."

"So you're saying I have a morality disorder? My conscience is in need of treatment?"

"I'm sorry, no. You're just kind of a jerk. I can't really fix that."

"Isn't wanting to have a disorder so badly kind of a disorder in itself?"

"It could be, but once I diagnose you, you will have been fulfilled and will no longer have the disorder."

"So I'd be in recovery and I would need--"

"No, no, you'd be fully recovered. There's no recovery period for a disorder based around the desire for a disorder."

"What about social anxiety?"

"I highly doubt that. I saw you hitting on that woman in the waiting room."

I put my head down. "It's only 'cause I'm so lonely."

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"I cut myself sometimes!"

"Do you really?"

"Yeah!" I held up a bandaged finger. "Last night I was chopping carrots for a stew and--"

"Please, just stop. I have people with legitimate problems to see."

"But I'm imperfect! I'm broken!" Security guards entered the room. "I have a fear of authority figures!" They dragged me out in the hallway, pausing to remove my fingers from the door frame. "Look at me! Look how far gone I am! Stop denying me treatment!" The receptionist and all the patients in the waiting room stared incredulously. "I'm a filthy exhibitionist!" I yelled as I started to unbutton my pants. "Also!" I turned to the receptionist as the guards regained their hold: "You're a beautiful girl and I would like to get to know you better!" I was being dragged towards the hall again. "Ask Dr. Whiting, he has my number! Maybe we could get din--"

And the door slammed shut. And security threw me out the front door. And I think I bruised my tail bone. And I began to wonder what humans would be like if they still had tails. I quickly ran to the side of the building, to Dr. Whiting's open window. "Sometimes I fantasize about having a tail! Isn't that the weirdest thing?" I could see the good doctor shaking his head and pulling the window shut. I began to wonder when the receptionist was working next. I planned to check my messages once I got home. Maybe if I'm crestfallen enough, I can at least fake depression. It's so goddamn difficult being happy.

Bears, Trees...

Remember that time we got lost in the woods? Remember how the stars looked? You were freaking out 'cause you thought we'd get eaten. Night in the woods. The bears didn't bother us, though. Maybe the bribe worked? I left a pack of hotdogs near the ranger station. Don't give me that look. That was a preventable tragedy. That ranger was being a dick anyway. It was a win for the bears, right? They were having a bad season as it was. No, not Chicago. Fuzzy bears. The ones with the teeth? Bear hugs? I gave you bear hugs, minus the claws scraping your back. That was your job. Better than your office job, I always thought. Maybe being with me was just as much a chore. I wanted to make it a challenge. The Army will train you, train you, train you to kill. I wanted to train you to survive, to thrive under the most adverse conditions. Bullets didn't factor into it. Getting lost in the woods did. Making any terrifying situation a beautiful one. Beauty is terrifying, yes? It worked both ways, too. Now you know why I gasped whenever you got undressed. Your eyes, intense and gorgeous and absolutely frightening. I don't think I could have loved without fear. It motivated me. It motivated you too, it motivated us. It led us to the woods. The bears, the rangers, their dark green trucks standing out against the vibrant colors of the forest. You didn't have to don camouflage. You fit right in with the trees, impressive, perfect, scarred, beautiful...and you scared me. And I couldn't lose you. And we got lost together. Sometimes the only solution is to do what you're afraid everyone else will eventually do. So I beat you to the punch. I had to. And look, there are the stars.