around the bend

I had an appointment with my shrink today.  I think most of you know by now that I'm certifiably crazy, and those of you that don't could've probably guessed it.

anyway, while he was making notes in my little folder that is reserved for writing down observations about my mental state, I peeked at his handwriting.

an indecipherable scrawl, he is a doctor after all.  

this indicates that he is secretive, closed-up and likes to keep his thoughts to himself and this is precisely how I perceive him to be.

aside from this, why can no doctor on the face of the planet write legibly?!  additionally they all seem to write identically, like old people.  I feel that in the case of geriatrics it is more a product of their education during a specific era, and less about being a complete jerk on purpose.  

It is possibly the most annoying thing about these bones and it makes me wonder if they practice the doctor chirography while in med school, like professional athletes fashion their autographs before going pro.  do they do this to hide their real notes from us in the event that we get our hands on these precious documents?  in all actuality do they say things like "this guy is a drug seeker" or "hypochondriac".  or worse, like "this lady is a complete cunt, give her whatever she wants and get her out quick!"  

The second quality I noticed was that his cuneiform slanted to the right.  allegedly this announces that he is outgoing, friendly, impulsive and emotionally open.  

My doc doesn't strike me as the enthusiastic party guy that this interpretation implies, but who knows what he does in his free time.
maybe he's a swinger.  maybe he goes to nightclubs and brings lesbians home to his wife so they can participate in bizarro sex rituals somehow involving safety words like "banana".

who knows... 

honestly I couldn't care less whether or not he is a sexual deviant.  I find him interesting, and somewhat unusual. 

I actually didn't like him at all when I first started seeing him.  he bugged me out and gave me the heebies.  his office is too bright and stark and there is an audible hum of light fixtures.  the ambiance messes with my eyes, giving me a mild case of tunnel vision and serious anxiety.

I squirm uncomfortably in the too-big armchair, avoiding eye contact, fidgeting and picking at my nails.

I hated my visits, but one day that changed.

I told him something or other, I don't remember what, and he simply replied that, "life can be perverse".

this struck me as one of the most brilliant things I've ever heard.  the morbid girl in me adhered to this statement with utter delight, and just like that, I found that I was beginning to like him on some strange level and could now tell him things that he would understand in a way that no one else could.  

I know this is his job, but I was impressed.