I sat there and told you how I felt,
how I couldn't sleep because he was there
in my dreams, under my skin
and you said "maybe University isn't for you",
I realised you didn't get me,
but I kept on going every week.

Now 3 years later when I am dealing
with what's left behind
I cannot help but to be angry at you
for not giving me the proper help
or call me in sick,
instead of saying "take long walks".

I regret that I didn't have someone who fought
for me,
who gave me what I needed and said
"the situation isn't ok, let's fix this,
whatever it takes"
but no one did, not even mum or dad.

I was so alone that I grabbed onto anything
and everything that stood still;
I was spinning, shaking and couldn't stand up
on my own
and that you couldn't see that wasn't my fault;
because I screamed for help
even if I didn't fall apart in front of you,
sometimes I wonder: should I have had?

I took long walks in the nearby forest instead
and cried after every session we had,
because I wanted to be strong and talk
even if my voice almost failed me sometimes
in your white room at the local hospital.

But one day at the beginning of summer
after just some few months
you said without warning
when our session was over "this is our last time...
[silence and a look at my pants]
it must be tough for you to find clothes your size,
do you buy your clothes at the kid's department?"
and I put my bag on and said "no, these are second hand,
I've cut them myself"
and walked out with a "good bye" and a smile.

I wasn't ok then and I am not ok now,
so I cannot help but wonder what would have been
if you had actually tried
to do what you were paid for
and what I asked you to give me
when I, in the beginning, barely could eat or get out of bed,
and then, at the end, when I became all cold inside.