What Dreams May Come

Dear Diary, I am writing in your bullshit pages because my shrink is crazier then I am. He thinks you're therapy. He figures if two babies can hammer me into a Psycho ward, what will I do with this ? He is so stupid. He's so stupid that he thinks he pulled me through the breakdown when it was Christy. Always. Only Chis. I was looking through his postcards. Paintings were his obsession. He used art as another way to love me, to help me. To keep us always together.