There Are No Ferraris On The Moon

Life in therapy land:

"My heart hurts. It hurts bad. Feels like my chest is in a giant vice and it's squeezing me. I can't even take full breaths."


"I have a pill for that-"


"I don't want a goddam pill!"


"I'm just trying to present a solution to your situation."


"That's a solution to YOUR situation, you brainwashed bigot! There's no pill for guilt or loneliness! You'd just as soon as drug up the world than have to actually help someone."


"Help is what I'm all about."


"Yeah, yeah, that's what you have to tell yourself - even when it's not true."


"Ok, then. How can I help?"


"By knowing that you can't."


His face finally uncontorted. "You've been thinking about the Ferrari again, haven't you?"


"Never stopped."


"If you fall into depression no one will hire you."


"I'm goddam homeless! If I can't be depressed now when can I be? You go be fucking happy in the concentration camp. I think it goddam sucks!"


"That's just not a practical way to be in the world."


"The world is not a practical place!"


"You have another place to live?"


Therapy: it's all about gaining the upper hand. "The moon's looking better every day."


"There are no Ferraris on the moon."

"Good, then I can't fuck any of them up!"

"Is that what you want?"

"I can't stop reliving that moment. It hits me like a hammer. I keep seeing that light pole and remembering me flooring the pedal, all the time telling myself, "No! No! You can't do that!" but I did it anyway. I can't live with this. It's like I'm stuck in time."


"You said before it was the guilt."


"Yeah, well you try being friends with someone while stealing their car! It's goddam hell! The guilt was fucking killing me! Destroying it was the only thing I could see to do. She was nothing but kind to me but I stole her car and then I wrecked it and now I can't face it."


"Did you ever tell her you stole it?"


"No! She hates me enough as it is. Bad enough she knows I wrecked it. My life is a fucking hell now. Every time I walk out onto the street I'm afraid I'm going to run into her and it's not like she's ever going to be around a homeless area with her kind of money but I can't get it out of my head she's going to find me and kill me. Driving that car was the first time I'd felt alive in years. Now I can't trust me ever again."


"Perhaps she's forgiven you."


"Not sure I want her to."


"Sulking your way to victory?"


I wanted to hit the fucker. I'm the only one he uses sarcasm on - probably because he sees me use it so much he knows he can get away with it. But I didn't have an answer.


"You know what I do? I go to the wrecking yard where it ended up - I even find myself there in my dreams - and I get a piece of the car and I hit myself with it. I don't know what else to do."


Then we sat there in silence the rest of the hour.