The crazy kid

    I was the crazy kid. On so many meds you couldn't count them. But I could. I'm not normal. Well thats the under statement of the century, but you get the point.

    My parents don't talk to me. I fail all of my classes. Its because I dont 'try'. But the work is simply to easy for me to be able to 'try'. So forth I don't understand the definition of try. Language is a code,  deciphered by music which ironic seemed to be shrouded with even more mystery.

   Music was my only friend. It didnt understand me and I admited to not understanding it so logicly we were perfect friends. Humans dont understand me. So in a way im like music. Except I reppell people.

   They call me names. Like sycho, loser, and bach. Bach would be an incorrect comparison because I played rock, not classical. And I dont even play piano.

  But back on track I was in between a rock and a hard place.  This basically consisted of  my family and school. Or would people be a more accurate description. People in general are my issue truthfully. Oh and we can't forget about my worst enemy sports. From American football to wrestling I can't cope.

  I heard thunder clash knocking me out of my thought process. I looked around forgetting my surroundings. I was in the therapists waiting room. Remember when I told you I was crazy. I wasn't lying.

  So the thing that everything says is how the chairs at therapists are always interesting and I agree. I would never have agreed to come here if it wasn't for that

    "Katy Rose" I heard called from an assistant pulling one earphone out of my ear I said yes.

    "Its time for your appointment Come with me" Plopping my earphone back in my ear I followed her through a curving hallway with numerous doors into a dimly lit room with cool chairs . Excided I  immeaditly rushed to the chairs and sat down, closing my eyes as I continued to listen to music.

   "How has your day been katy. And why dont you put your electronics back in your pocket as we talk" irretated I obeyed.

  "Ok" I quietly responed.

  "How have you and your development of friends been going"

   "Good" I lied. I found it easier to act like I had friends then to do ridiculous things that my therapist wanted.

   My therapist was a middle aged dude who acted like he was 90 the way he talked. He has a low iq and I have found him to be stupid because I had diagnosed my problem before he had. He smelled bad too, and had greying hair.

   "How about the anti-anxiety exercises I have been having you try out. Remember breath in for 5 seconds. Hold your breath for 10 and then breath out for 6." He stated

  Continuing on knowing I wasn't going to awnser him he said "How have you and your family been going" He struck a sore note and he knew it

——————————

I can write from this persons perspective to easily.