It was hot. The backs of my knees and thighs stuck in sweat to Dr. Mince's black leather chair. I was uncomfortable and I squirmed. The sucking noises of skin against leather echoed my feelings.



"I don't know, the more I visualize women as my lovers, the more I lose the person I was."



"That's a good sign Greg. Don't worry. It doesn't mean you'll lose your true self, only that your finding your whole manself. This is good, very good," said Dr. Mince, nodding emphatically.



"Manself" sounded good to me. I'd like to find my true "manself," I thought.



"Greg, now is the time for you to completely open and let what we've been working towards happen to you."



Working for, working for, working for repeated in my head. I thought about my first job. Working for money. Three dollars and sixty-five cents an hour at McDonald's when I was sixteen. Without question I served a portion of the ten billion served at McDonald's and they gave me money. But now, what was I "working for?"



"... Greg?" Dr. Mince had been talking.



"Yeah, yeah, I'm listening." I shivered, thinking of treatments. It was at the point when anytime I disappointed Dr. Mince, he would send me to shock. "I swear, I'm listening," I repeated, unaware of the pathetic color of my voice.



Sometimes just showing him how tortured I was seemed like it was enough. Which reminded me of Steve. Why is that after all that he did to me I still wanted to kiss him, now more than ever?



"Have you had anymore physical contact with Donna?" He asked.



"Yes. We kissed."



"Good. But stay in control."



"Dr. Mince, I have to tell you something, even if it risks more treatments. I have to tell you because if I don't, I won't be giving this a fair shock-- I mean shot."



"Go ahead..."



"I don't know if I can do it. My insecurities are rampant and I feel so alone. I'm lonely all the time, even when I'm with Donna. I feel like I'm by myself, and sad." Tears suddenly flowed steadily from my eyes. Tears I'd been in battle with for a long time which I could no longer ignore. I could sense fear in Dr. Mince, fear of my relief, I wondered.



"Greg, would you like to go back to your room and rest for a while?" His voice wavered.



"Well, actually, no. I think I would like to talk about it."



He stood. "Get through this black hole and then we can make some progress." His arms reached out and grabbed my shoulders, "Just remember, I am always here for you." And he opened the door.



When I left, I stopped crying. I felt like a stuffed pig. Odd, but that's how I felt.