38. I Shall Become what I hate most...

Mood: I don't wanna talk about it...

Song: Nothing

Sorry for the language, folks

XXX

...A liar. I shall become a liar.

For my own sake, of course.

Today I had therapy and I realized that I have two choices. Accept the fact that I'm being forced to see someone else and do well in school, completely suppressing my feelings of anger, depression, and whatnot, and fake my way through my panic attacks and episodes. OR, have my problem worsen (like it's going to anyway) and be sent to a long term residential facility.

I think it's obvious which I'm going to pick.

I am not being sent to a long term facility. You'd have to kill me first. 

My therapist seems to think that this whole thing is something I'm doing to seek attention. AH, NO! I mean seriously! Who the FUCK hurts them self to get ATTENTION??? That's just stupid! If anything, I want LESS attention! I wish people would stop paying any mind to the cuts on my arms. I might not hide them, but I sure as hell ain't PROUD of them! My entire fucking arm is RUINED! It's as bad as getting a tattoo. People will see that and think that I'm crazy! My therapist also thinks that I need to see someone different. That means that I'll have to explain myself for the billionth time. I wish people just knew. So I didn't have to open my mouth and repeat my life story over and over again.

So, I'm going to lie. I'm going to pretend that my life is perfect and pretend that none of this even happened. Gloria (therapist) fucking thinks that I fucking cut myself for attention! What the fuck???!!! I'm going to suppress my urges to cut and hide my anger and depression. I'm going to be  fucking happy.

Maybe I should just stop taking my medication. Meditate myself into a state of false happiness. Forget I have these problems. Who knows? Maybe they'll just go away.

Who even reads this blog anymore anyway?

Anyway,

Yours (happily)

Leeches <3