The psychic said, “You’re the saddest person I’ve ever seen. You need to get away from that man.”
The psychiatrist said, “Can you tell me why you parents might be so concerned?”
The therapist said, “I don’t like your taste in men.”
The brother said, Redacted.
The thoughts said, “You are hideous. You are stupid. No one cares.”
The kitchen floor said, “Let go. Just let go. It’s too hard to continue.”
The doctor said, “Take Zoloft. Take Prozac. Double your dosage. CBT, twice a week.”
The tree said, “Sit down. Rest.”
The dog said, “Watch me. I’ll never leave you. Let’s go for a walk. It’ll be okay.”
The child said, “He hates me. Everyone hates me.”
The sorrow said, write the book.
The love said, write the book.
I wrote the book.
Julie Barton 
Marcia, Yes, a psychic (don’t know if she was “real”) really did come up to me and tell me that I was the saddest person she’d ever seen. I was walking through a street fair in New York City the year that it happened. I’d never seen her before, did not invite her to come to me. She beelined to me in the crowd, held both my hands, and said it. I, of course, burst into tears, ran back to my apartment, and hid. The beginning of the end of my time in NYC…
Did a psychic- a real one- tell you you were the saddest person she’d ever seen? Wow. I’ve seen some mighty sad people in my life. That is really really sad.
I am so proud of you. Have a little extra chocolate tonight!
Thank you Nina! Done!
Love your poem. Thank you for sharing it.
Thank you so much for reading it!
I’m glad you listened to the sorrow and the love.
Thank you Celenia. Me too!