Another day with the therapist

As seems to happen after going to Therapy I seem to be feeling better. The thing is that Nigel seem to keep throwing things at me that make me think. Some times that is good and sometimes that is bad.

I am starting to realise that I don't really live my life but am just floating down the torrent that is life without any direction in my life. I don't really think about things much. even when I try to all I seem to do is go round and round in circles. Tying to understand what is going on in my mind is very hard and all I seem to do is bump off some barrier and then give up. I don't seem to be able find a foot hold on this problem. Even now writing this I just don't know what to say, I just don't know where to go.

Here is another little poem (or what ever) produced this morning as a result of the feelings from my therapy:

Reality.

What is my reality,
And is that the same
As the next persons?

Do we all exist in one,
Or are we bubbles in the foam of life,
Separate and distinct.

I don't seem to know
If what I remember about yesterday,
Really happened, or was all an allusion.

My reality is Now,
Only this millisecond,
What is past is gone.

It flows like oil on water,
Multi coloured, intermixed,
Reality and invention.

Impossible to separate,
Reality becomes fogged,
And I lose who I am.