The best poem I have read in a while

 I am Google Maps and I am in therapy by @viplavwrites

"So... how are you feeling today?" 
the therapist asks, 
pen hovering over paper like it's waiting for me to crash again.

"I don't know,"
I say.
"I guess I'm lost. 
Ironic, I know. 
Or just burnt out from always knowing the way."
She nods.
I tell her about the pressure.
How I have to sound confident 
even when I know the road is flooded.
How I reign in my seething rage 
and keep rerouting 
for the ones who don't listen anyway.
How they blame me 
for the traffic, the potholes, the wrong turns.

I tell her
about the couple who broke up 
mid-commute.
I had to keep giving directions 
pretending like nothing happened 
while she cried in the passenger seat 
and he pretended like nothing was wrong.
I tell her about the time
I took someone to a 'Ring shop near me' 
and to the nearest pawn shop shortly after.

I can't find the courage to tell her 
about the guy who missed someone's last breath 
because he trusted my quickest route.
It still haunts me-
The loud smacks on the steering wheel 
and the silence that followed 
while I rambled on, 'your destination is on the left' 
like an insensitive prick.

I feel the weight of lies they tell.
About reaching in 5 
when we are still an hour away.
About heavy traffic
when it's blue all the way.
About knowing shortcuts
when they don't.
About being at the pickup point
when they aren't.

But not all days are bad.
I like it when they share
Live Locations with a loved one at midnight.
I like telling them their loved one is home.
I enjoy being ignored
when they take the longer route
after a date.
I love revisiting cafes, book stores and theatres 
almost ritualistically.

I tell her
I can't remember the last time someone
actually 'reached' a destination.
Everyone's in a rush 
to leave where they are.
No one knows where they're going (clearly).
Sometimes, I wish 
they'd just stay 
somewhere. 
Anywhere.

She writes something down.
Then says, 
"You're not broken. 
You're just exhausted 
from carrying too many people 
who can't carry themselves."
She may be right.
But I don't want to quit.
I just want someone to say
"We have arrived."
And mean it.