Is it Too Late to Say, ‘Go Fuck Yourself?’

The tears stream down my face These memories won’t erase.

You enter my mind and I wish I could turn back the hands of time.

To tell you to ‘go fuck yourself.’

How many years have past? These memories, they still last.

I think of what I could have said sometimes it gets stuck in my head.

My head starts to spin…’I should have said this. I could have said that…’ and I know now, I’ll never win.

Is it too late to tell you to ‘go fuck yourself?’

Nah.

‘Go fuck yourself.’

Has it been five or six years? I sit here and still have the same fears.

You made me feel worthless. You made me feel small. You were no therapist at all.

You took a vow and broke it with me. And in all these years you will never see

What you did.

Is it too late to say, ‘go fuck yourself?’

We did therapy over drinks. Why didn’t I ever think

That this is crazy?

One drink or ten? I never knew when to say when.

You’re right. I was old enough to make my own choice but you never gave me a voice.

You didn’t even diagnose me right. Maybe that’s why I was always in flight or fight?

Why didn’t you see the signs? That I was clearly Borderline.

It couldn’t have been more clear and that’s why I always needed you near; that’s why I lived in fear

Of being left.

And then that day in the bar. You handed me my biggest scar.

‘It can’t be this way. I can’t do this another day. Find another therapist,’ you say.

And you left me.

Alone.

At a bar.

Is it too late to say, ‘go fuck yourself?’

I take your advice and get a new therapist who is wicked nice.

She listens to the abuse of our relationship and tells me she has to make a report. This seems like the last resort.

I stop talking to her about you because I still care about what you do.

But why?

I tell you about the report and you scream and yell. This pain I feel is like living in hell.

You scream at me and tell me that I’m crazy and then tell me that they are going to come and take my babies.

You tell me to revoke what I said and tell the court I was lying instead.

It is clear that you don’t care about me and what you are doing to my mind. I clearly can’t rewind

What I said.

Fast forward to a few months down the road. Man, this story is getting old.

But I replay it.

Rewind. Play. Rewind. Play. Remember that time I told you I thought I was gay?

I told you I was bi and I liked girls and a guy. Shh. Don’t tell anyone I say because I really don’t know if I am gay.

I thought you would keep my secret but you just leaked it into a court of law. I can feel myself fall.

I feel my impending doom; my secrets were thrown around that room;

In front of an audience.

Is it too late to say, ‘go fuck yourself?’

The judge handed you a sentence, like she didn’t even meant it.

Six months of not practicing therapy and a fine. That’s where she drew the line.

I cry for you. I hurt for you. This was NEVER what I wanted to do.

Months go by but time moves slow. Here comes the biggest blow.

The board has reviewed the case and found that our years together were a waste.

They revoke your license.

I hear the news and I don’t know if I should cheer or cry. This was NEVER what I wanted for you; I feel like I want to die.

The pain you must felt, the tears you must have shed still leave me with overwhelming dread.

Years later I still feel bad and that makes me really fucking mad.

Because what you did to me could never be reversed. This memory is just a curse

That is on repeat.

Forever.

Is it too late to say, ‘go fuck yourself?’

Until next time,

Allison