Monday, 22nd, Bedroom
Frankie says I have to write in this book.
I have told him, over and over, that he is NOT the boss of me, and therefore can NOT tell me what to do under any circumstances, but unfortunately Frankie has not quite grasped this concept yet. I don’t think he can comprehend. (El idiota, if you know what I’m trying to say.)
Frankie also says I have a lot of mutilated anger and exasperation towards him, and life in general. I told him that I did get exasperated with him quite a lot, actually, and overall my life sucks. So I guess he isn’t wrong about everything.
What am I supposed to write about?
I asked my therapist, Jennie, why I have to write in this stupid book and she actually took Frankie’s side. And, yes, before you ask, Jennie the bartender is a therapist. Everyone always laughs when I tell them this.