"Sometimes I don't quite understand my feelings, I kind of miss interpret my own signals, like mixing the urge for a chocolate bar with masturbation, hunger and thirst, sleep and beer", these where my words to my dumb physiatrist. Like most of dumb people he is a marvelous listener, I guess that's why I choose him to be my psychiatrist ignoring the fact that he can't speak. It made me feel a little uncomfortable trough the sessions, when nodding or smiling are not enough for a responses. But that's me I always make my decisions in a haste. Any how I went on saying "I guess I missed some basic experiences, which now makes me juvenile at very basic human daily life protocols, like where should you aim your eyes when talking to someone specially a girl, facial expressions, and how to use them, I usually copy people's expressions,…is that good dr.ryan?". he nodded again, I stared at him this time demanding a clearer respond, and I wouldn't move my eyes off him. The dumb psyciatrist said "I understand.".
that was the only session I paid for through my 24 long sessions.
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