There isn’t much I can say about the man who spoke to voices, I can’t say much besides I was afraid of him. He was not supposed to be my patient yet, but in the end he was, and I hate so much he was.

Now I have no reason to go back to that place, at least for now, because in the end, there's always a reason to go back... That place, the place of my nightmares, that place which got rid of part of my infancy, the place that got sure of damaging the part of the girl I now hide. I want never to go back. I don’t want the history, I don’t want to talk about it, I wanted to write about it. It’s such a relief. It wasn’t the worst thing for me, but I knew it since the phone rang. I’m so angry and tired of being the person that looses things. It's not the kind of trait that makes me feel all nice and special.. it's the kind of thing that makes me feel life is fucked up sometimes.