Dear Diary

This is dumb. I think as I sit here on this uncomfortably comfortable padded chair and peer past these pages at Mary.

It was her idea for me to bring my diary to this session.

She had asked me if I ever confided in anyone about what happened. I joked and told her the only person I confide in is my diary.

So here we are, in an awkward silence while she jots down notes, not doubt about how I am acting like a ten-year-old on punishment while I jot ...