Therapy

Scouring the internet attempting to find a black female therapist that can relate to my plight because I'm out of options
and have grown desperate enough to try anything just to heal
just so I'm not apart of the problem and evading being toxic to the next person  
projecting all my baggage onto some innocent bystander  
or turn into a bitter malicious feminist with only one goal  
to destroy the black man and black family because the only people that have hurt me my entire life are the people that look just like me that come from where I come from with the same problems that I have.  
I speculate that a woman would be best because she isn't going to want to fuck me like ever man that I come in contact with so I can't even trust my own earthly masters because they all have dicks and can be persuaded to aid in my destruction by their very own boners.  
When it finally it seems that I have arrived and hope is somewhat restored  
I schedule the Telehealth appointment for11 AM the following day  
10:50AM I'm logged into the video chat anxiously awaiting her entrance to be greeted with a kind smile with concern in her voice.  
11:10AM I'm anxious negative self talk sets in, then mania.  
A phone call is made to her office informing them and a justification is presented by the administrative assistant whom happens to be a fag (eye roll)  
11:30AM she's finally available.
Now I'm in a catatonic state of rage and despondency and cannot talk or process effectively.  
I wasn't even worthy of her being on time for...  
My suicidal thoughts, my self sabotage the sexual assault that occurred at my place of employment the very week before, the abusive relationship that I can't even find the strength to leave because of my acquiescence and Stockholm syndrome ...  
And you have the audacity to call yourself HELP?!  
How dare you?!  
I guess the money my insurance is paying you wasn't incentive enough to potentially save my life and restore my faith in humanity.  
What significance does that piece of paper that you earned from that institution really have that says you're qualified to do whatever the fuck it is that you where suppose to be doing today for me?  
Did it teach you how to be considerate?  
How to have empathy or even sympathy?  
Did it show you how to properly acknowledge the human of the people that depend so heavily on your perspective, advice and insight?  
Why did you choose this career path if all you hear is Charlie Browns teacher?  
Do I inconvenience you ma'am?  
Where does your sense or urgency lie?  
If I were your daughter or mother or best friend would it matter then?  
Doesn't the idea of another dead black body make you cringe?  
What about if its by your own hand or you had the opportunity to prevent it from happening and chose otherwise?  
Why be another catalyst that feeds the narrative that my life means nothing to this world?  
I mean its not like I spent all night filling out all that fucking intake paperwork as thoroughly as possible disclosing and exposing the most intimate and mortifying details of my life just to coerce you to even have the desire to lend me your ear so my voice could be heard.  
I had to relive every moment of my trauma as I typed each detailed description of why I need you!  
Why the fuck am I groveling to some bitch I don't even know that isn't even responsible enough to call me herself and apologize for the delay or absence rather.  
I'm so tired of every one in positions of power and authority and their sorry ass excuses for why they can't do what they said they would do?  
Guess what? That makes you a fucking liar and manipulator you opportunist!
My job is not to force you to give a fuck.
I suppose I'm to blame for my poor discernment in trusting someone I have to pay to  display care properly what a scam and a sham.  
I never did have the best examples of a model citizen or good Samaritan.  
Its no wonder I've failed so miserably in my own relationship  
My influences suck ass.  
I suppose if I kill myself I'm just another name    
A new social security number for the next bastard.  
Life will go on and you'll still get paid because you're capitalizing off of the mental illness that plagues my community.  
Don't embarrass me you silly cunt.  
And now when I don't answer the phone and confirm that I'm okay  
you take my choice away from me    
sending the police to my door step my very enemy whose been the bane of my peoples existence murdering in cold blood any and every black life they can get away with that coincidentally has the same mental health that I have been subjected to and I'm not suppose to perceive that as a threat?  
   
FUCK THERAPY?