Son compartido

My therapist started writing down my thoughts before I said them out loud. Last session, I was thinking about my childhood. She wrote it down before I spoke. Word for word. Exactly what I was thinking. She wrote: You're wondering how I'm doing this. I hadn't said anything. She showed me her notebook. Every page was filled with MY handwriting. My words. My secrets. But I never wrote them. She said: You wrote these. Just not yet. Now I'm getting therapy notes about my death. Dated three w