This was a deadass idea!

I sat down in the waiting area outside the door of Dr. Ivy Jones clinic. My foot tapping on the ground, my tote bag clutched to my chest. How deranged I had to be to do therapy sessions the second time after the ones with Miss Thapa years ago? Would this seriously patch me up? Was I spending my beloved money on the right thing (despite the discount)? These thoughts screwed my head like a damn mixie, filling me with doubt and anxiety. Kylie's persistence was the only reason I was here. Else she wouldn't let me hear the end of it.