I don't want to go. They aren't going to understand my pain. They are just going think I'm a fuck-up, just like everyone else. All these thoughts going through my head as I looked my clock to check what time it was, 10:07 P.M. In less than ten hours I would be seeing my first psychiatrist ever. It's only been two weeks since I broke the news to them. The news that I'm suicidal, the news that I cut, but most importantly that I am depressed. It's now 10:12 and the anxiety inside me only grows and grows. I really hope the session will just be the psychiatrist and I, but I really doubt that it will be. I really appreciate everything my family is trying to do to help, but I really don't want them knowing any specifics about my depression, or my life. You know it's funny they think they know me, but in reality they don't even know the half of me or my actions. They never have and I really want to keep it that way. I don't want them knowing about Jimmy. I don't want them knowing anything of my so called "love-life". I don't want them finding anything out.bur it's getting late so I have to go to sleep the appointment is set for 8:00A.M.
YOU ARE READING
A New Start
Non-FictionThis is the story of a girl who was tired of living in hell. Who knew she could've had it worse, but couldn't take where she was let alone. This is the story of a new start. This is my story.
