A thin pane of glass

Sometimes I feel that all there is between me and the crazy is a thin pane of glass.

I'm suppose to talk to the little scared girl inside of me, at least that is what my therapist says...but I don't want to. She is too frightening. I want to forget she ever existed.
She was alone at lot and lonely, left with dark, strange thoughts.
What I remember today. Sitting on the kitchen countercounter,reading one of the poems I had written to my mama while she cooks supper.All my poems were so full of angst. I was emo before the word was invented.