Here we go again. Another therapist to tell me that my thoughts are illogical, irrational, and any other adjective you can think of that starts with an “I” and tells me I’m insane (oh, insane! That’ll work). This new guy really likes to talk. He doesn’t seem to ever stop tenting his fingers unless it’s to press his forefinger to his temple as if in deep thought. Ha, such a stereotypical shrink! It’s not like I can’t understand where they’re coming from. It’s not “normal” for 17 year old girls to still believe in faeries. It’s not “healthy” to stay out so late every night. But it seems like they don’t understand where I’m coming from. They don’t even try. The only thing they’re interested in is making me think the same things as everyone else. As I was staring at the latest youth counselor, Dr. VonUsual (whose real name was VonDeussel), I thought to myself…

How does this fifty-something year old man know anything about being a teenage girl?

After thinking this (for about the seventh time in my life), I knew it would be nearly impossible for me to even make an attempt at opening up to this guy. How could I be sure his heart is in the right place? At least he wasn’t like the first therapist I went to when I was 12. That man convinced me my problems would disappear if I let him in my pants, on more than one occasion obviously. How could I expect the remedy to work the first time? It took work! He was a real bastard, to say the least. But still, for all I knew, VonDeussel was more interested in my money than the inner workings of my mind. That pad he’s writing on could be filled with nothing but sketches of the yacht he’s saving up for. That’s when I decided to start taking matters into my own hands. After all, I’m an excellent judge of character

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that every therapist I’ve been to has been the same guy. He’s just been changing his form. But come on, who believes in shape shifters? Besides me, that is. I believe in many things. I believe that faeries walk among us, hiding their wings with magic so we look at them and see just another person. I also believe that there are some who can see faeries for what they really are (myself, being one of them). Ever since I put the pieces together that the glowing people with wings that I can see are faeries, and that not everybody can see them, I’ve wondered what else is out there that I can’t see.

There are only 2 people in my life that don’t treat me like I’m out of my mind when I talk about all the things I believe in; my younger sister, Katya, and my best friend Eden. However, my mom sent Katya to live with my father in New York when she found out she believed me. Now, the only confidante I have is Eden.

I don’t think Eden would believe me if she couldn’t communicate with ghosts. Even when she was little she could see and talk to spirits. She helps them move on when she can, but other times, she just keeps them company. When she was little, she was the only kid whose imaginary friend wasn’t really imaginary.

Just because some things aren’t visible to others doesn’t mean they aren’t real.