The therapist is already waiting for me. She is a black woman, with a very good fashion sense. She had a stylish short fair hair. She greets me and shows me where to sit.

“So, Kurt Hummel, right?” She asks smiling.

“Right”

“Okay, Kurt so since this is our first session I, would like you to tell me a bit about, yourself. Feel free to talk about whatever you want; I just want to make yourself comfortable”

I don't see how that’s possible but I like the effort. I answer her with a nod.

“So, the information form says you’re not British? …”

“Yes, I'm American; I was born in a small town in Ohio”

“Oh, and did you lived there for a long?”

“Well, I spent all my childhood, until high school ended…”

“Really? And what was child Kurt like?”

I laugh, I consider child Kurt to be a joke, I was so happy that I didn't even thought it would end one day, I was so naive. I’ll try to avoid the question.
“I liked to sing, I performed every Disney musical number until I discovered West Side Story, Then Rent, and Singing in the Rain. Later, when I was older I found Wicked. That’s when I realized I liked musicals just as much as designing clothes… so in high school I entered to glee club. We won a Nationals Championship in my senior year… I was so happy.”

She stares at me smiling, she suddenly frowns. “And, if you loved musicals, and performing, why didn't you study drama or something related to that?” I don't answer immediately, this is a delicate question.

“When I was 7, my mom got a degenerative decease, some type of cancer… then I realized that I needed to do something for her, I wanted to be a doctor, so I could take care of her, and do whatever it took to cure her… ” I pause. The therapist is writing something. “However, she died shortly after I was accepted in Harvard”.

“And, what can you tell me about your dad? How did he help you with that?”

“I don’t have one… well I mean I know I must have one, but he died. My mom tells me that he was a businessman who really cared about me. He was murdered when I was 3, I don’t really remember him. My mom says he had forgotten to buy milk one night and he went to the store. He never came back. The police found a burnt body which had his wedding ring, and wallet. I don’t even have a picture of him.”

“So, how did life in Harvard went?”

“Pretty well, I think. I had a good friend who supported me after that. He was also studying medicine, and he had been my friend since we were 9…”

“And what happened?”

I waited before answering. I really want to cry now. I have so many memories about this that they’ve exploded in this moment. I need to clear my mind. Namaste.
“Three years ago, I took my degree of Medicine of Harvard University and went to a course prescribed for surgeons in the army, near London. Having completed my studies there, I was dully attached to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers as assistant surgeon. Then, I got my neck nearly sliced and a gunshot in my left arm. I lost my best friend too.” I spit in a serious tone. “I have terrible nightmares about it”

“For how long have you been having these nightmares?”

“Since he was murdered right in front of me” I say with a fake smile.

“Oh, so sorry to hear that, and do you have any more friends?” Well that was really rude, but she’s the expert so I’ll try not to complain about her. It’s her job.

“No, I don’t”

“Any more relatives?”

“I have an aunt who lives in south Kensington, I was living with her until she got married and kicked me out. She didn’t like me anyway”

“Okay, so what about now? How do you describe yourself?”

“I think I’m a freak. I spend almost all my money on designer outfits, theatre nights and cleaning products. I realized last week that I wasted 3 different hand antibacterial soaps in one day. That’s why I’m a bit broken.”

“What do you do now?”

“I give consults, like twice a week and survive with the army pension. That's all I have”

She finishes writing and I realize that the therapy time is over.
“Kurt, I know you've been through a hard time, but I really need you to open yourself a little, to try new things… so here’s what you’re going to do. Do you have a Facebook account or Twitter?”

“No, I despise social networks”

“Ok, so you'll open yourself a blog, your personal blog, so you can write everything that happens to you”

“What for?” Oh I know, so everyone all around the world can admire my miserable life and laugh at everything that usually happens to me. Like the lady who sneezed right in my face yesterday while I was looking for some money in the underground.

“You need to know yourself a little, talk with people. I think you need friends, and you need to stop thinking about your past.”

“Why?”

“Because, behind that coldness mask, you have a tender wonderful man who’s waiting to get out, all you need to do is help yourself a little. Come on, It’ll be fun.”

“I hardly think so. Besides, I'm already out and proud.” I joked.

She frowned while smiling, I could read awkward in her face. “Okay so… call me when you need me Kurt, we'll get you over this together”

“Sure, thanks for your time” I waved goodbye and walked outside.

"I'm really looking forward to read that blog Kurt!" I hear her say behind me

"I'll do it, soon... I hope so" 

I knew that no one could help me with this. How was I supposed to erase my terrible past? I’m helpless. I´m more than broken, I’m completely pissed off. You can’t trust people by the way (I've been betrayed so many times that I just can't), it just makes things more difficult than they really are.
I expect nothing at all.