Page 6: — Admitting to problems

Portrait, looking off in the distance.

But then, I was feeling messed up myself. I tried not to think about it. While we were together, I was convinced he was warping me. After we broke up, though, it was still there.

Lying on her stomach stretched across the king-size bed pictured above, but the bed is tilted almost vertically, and Alma is clinging desperately to one edge, her grip slipping.

It was dreams and daydreams, and they would get more intense, and it's like this twisted person would come out. . . when I masturbated, the things I imagined were disturbing.

Portrait, with veins drawn on her skin, like impossibly advanced blood-poisoning, with an expression of shock and devastation.

I felt divided against myself. It's like my fantasies kept betraying what I believed in. I fought to bring myself back under control, but I kept losing, and worse, I kept sort of wanting to lose.

Still, it didn't seem worth going to a shrink about, it wasn't like anything was really wrong — I was coping just fine with my life. I was doing great at work. None of my friends thought anything was the matter.

But I was pretty uncomfortable.

This script may be copied freely and used provided that its authorship in each instance is prominently and clearly attributed to Harold S. Henry.

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(last updated 20 March 2004)