Is this wrong? Or maybe it's just plain dangerous?

In my current search for comfort and solid ground, something keeps coming into my mind. It's New Guy. I'm a little embarrassed about this, but I unexpectedly sort of threw myself at him and clung to him on my way out the door Tuesday night. I remember I said that I wished he could come with me when I left. Maybe it comforts me just a little that he didn't pry me off of him and chastise me for being such a baby and instead said that I am allowed to call him again if I need to.

Yeah, I know... he's my therapist. He's not my buddy, not my mommy, and he's not going to show up over here for tea. I'm fine with that. But somehow I still have these ugly voices picking on me when I recall the feeling of his hands on my back when I am searching my mind for something safe. It felt reassuring to me. Like I was somehow able to absorb something from him in that moment that let me know I was okay in real-time. And the Peanut Gallery hates it. They say mean things to me and call me names because they don't want me to feel safe, be close to anyone, or let anyone help me. "Crybaby. Cling-on. You're so pathetic. Just suck it up and quit whining, you big sissy. You should be ashamed of yourself."

I think the Peanut Gallery can go fuck themselves. They just don't want me to feel good. They want me to feel stupid and feel bad about myself so I'll be too ashamed to talk about things. I'm not going to let them have their way. I know what they are. They are the ugly messages that my parents put in here and they can kiss my ass. I don't have to do what they say. I am allowed to tell things. Rambo says I'm allowed and that I'm a decent person and deserve help, so the Peanut Gallery can just fuck off and die. You have no idea how much I wish they would just die. I wish Rambo could somehow kill them for good.