I'm a Therapist, and My Patient is a Vegan Terrorist: 6 Deadly Social Media Influencers (Dr. Harper Therapy, #3)

by Dr. Harper

“We’re like the dream team!” I interrupted them, trying to prevent a fight. Sometimes I talk a lot, because it distracts people from getting angry. My therapist told me not to worry about other peoples’ conflicts, but I really wanted this evening to be perfect.

“Well, the first key is nonjudgmental self-awareness. Like, we can’t do any of the other keys until we’re aware of our thought patterns — both positive and negative.

I try not to let politics cloud my judgment with a patient, but it was definitely safe to say she made a lot of enemies. When we’re at war with the world, the world tends to fight back. But who fights back as a fucking chicken? And how was Shawn involved in all of this, if at all?

Noah leaned in like he was going to give me a kiss on the cheek. I don’t know why, but I instinctively ducked away. His ears turned bright red and he tried to pretend his kiss was an awkward whistle as he hurried out of the room.

“But I don’t think fear is our enemy. Usually it just wants to protect us from getting hurt. Once we see that, we realize that fear is a friend, looking out for us. And that doesn’t mean we have to listen to it all the time, but we also don’t have to avoid it! Then everything relaxes a little bit.”

Fear told me that no one would ever love me the way I loved them, so I was better off alone.

“Those labs handle the most dangerous and infectious viruses in the world,” he said. “Ebola, coronavirus, Marburg, Lassa, Nipah, Crimean-Congo, HIV…”

“Like clockwork, we turn on one another,” he said. “Our primal tribal instincts become activated, and we make sacrifices to keep ourselves safe. We talk about freedom and compassion, but that all goes out the door in a mass extinction.”

The only infectious disease I see is fear. What is the point of living if you’re constantly afraid of death?”

He pulled the blanket over his head and peeked out with a smile. “You make my heart feel squishy.”

“It’s like — It’s like you’ve decided there’s something wrong with you and therefore don’t believe anyone could like you.”

“UNIMAGINABLE PAIN AND TRAUMA!” she cried, falling to the ground. “SUFFERING BEYOND COMPREHENSION!” “Yikes.” Kierra raised her eyebrows. “Sounds like me when the pool bar closes.”

“I’m sick of waking up every day with that boredom gnawing away at my soul. I’m sick of being unable to reciprocate the things people say they feel for me — all I can do is mirror and mimic them. I’m sick of knowing I should be angry or sad about my past, but being unable to feel those things even when I try my hardest. It’s like I’ve been banished from my own body, and no fucking key is going to let me back in.”