I go into my Monday morning appointment
and sit in the same place 
I always choose.
Sometimes I laugh,
imagining switching chairs
with my therapist.
She could sit across
from the coffee table
with all the fidget toys 
in that weird clay bowl.
Her kids art is on the walls,
and it’s really not good.
Something only a mother could love.
I think all these things while she’s asking
about my week.
I tell her 
what came up 
in the last 7 days.
Each time I touch a hard emotion, 
my throat tightens.
I laugh it loose again.
Her brow furrows each time.
I already know what she’s going to say.
”Is it really funny to you?”
I nod,
“I mean yes.. It would make
a great episode on my sitcom.”
She tells me,
“It’s not our goal to
compartmentalize it all
into a TV show.
You aren’t watching it..
youre living it.”
I spend the rest of the time 
in her office
mumbling through
unimportant conversations,
while thinking of the perfect name 
to pitch to HBO.