“Girl black people don’t go to therapy.” I told her for the umpteenth time. “I don’t know how they convinced yo ass to go when you the most pro-black person I ever met!”

“Welp that’s a lie, I’m black and I know we all need some therapy.” Marley said. “I don’t know why you are so against it, when you know you need somebody to help you work thru your shit. Look at yourself Devon. Your body is literally shuttin’ down multiple times a day and getting worse. How often was it happenin’ when the attacks first started?”

“Ummmm probably once every other week.” I answered as I closed my eyes, hopin’ that my body would cool down as I was now sweatin’ like crazy.

“And now how many times is it happenin?” Kenzo asked.

“Every day a few times at least.” I said. “Kenzo, I know she ain’t got you on the therapy train now! I can’t believe that you more against it than me.”

“I know I ain’t really with tellin’ some stranger all my business so they can judge me.” Kenzo agreed. “But you’ve tried so much shit so far and nothin’ is workin’, so now I feel like you all outta options. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” I said sarcastically. “I tell a stranger all my business and then they judge me.”

“I get that Dev, but what do you have to lose?” Marley asked. “My privacy.” I said.