Hey, what's up?
Do you have a name? Hm? Yes? Awesome. Me too. It doesn't suit me well, though. It's actually a little stupid.
So, you ready to hear it?
America.
Ha, told you. Dumb.
I hate living in the US. There's the general things I don't like about it, of course. You know, the big things. The fact that we are one of the youngest countries in the world, but we say that we're "the land of the free." I guess it's true, though. We're pretty damn lucky.
And then there's the little things. All the drama, all the technology, all the people, and, more than anything, all the politics. The only thing you'll ever hear is "Trump should be president" or "This country is going out of control, so we need Hillary!"
Newsflash, America. This country has been spiraling for a LONG time.
Anyway, I hate America. Both the country, and myself.
But, honestly, I would have preferred to been named something like India, or Canada. Austria, or China. Belize, or.....Emily?
I don't know, just. Not America.
So. My name is, to my misfortune, America Peters, and I live in the beautiful, energetic city of Detroit, Michigan.
I'm being sarcastic. Detroit sucks. It's miserable, boring, crime-ridden, and disgusting.
I go to school right outside of the city, because my "awesome" parents (you know, the stupid idiots who decided to name me after a dying country) thought that a city school would not be suitable for their little angel. I learn unnecessary pieces of information from Starcrest Prep, a private school for Detroit kids who don't fit in with all the future inmates in the city schools. 50% of the school is made up of African American kids, 23.67% Hispanic students, 22.33% Asians, and 3.59% Caucasians. A little outnumbered on my part. Yay, me. There is exactly 589 students in the school, so everyone knows everyone and it is Hell. It is a middle school/high school, and we're all mixed together into one, large building. Currently, I am a sophomore, and I cannot wait until I graduate. Maybe all of my shit will be settled, by then.
I'm a pretty screwed up kid. I grew up normally. I was normal. All up until 7th grade, when I began getting all of these weird head things. Not headaches, not migraines, but...visions? I don't know. But, to this day, I don't know how to describe it. So, I'll do you a favor and not even try. Later that year, I started getting semi-suicidal thoughts and symptoms of depression.
Being my young, stupid seventh grade self, I took a shitload of online tests to try and figure out what was happening to me. All came out positive for, not depression, not bipolar disorder, but cyclothymia. I had never heard of it before, and that sort of scared me, so I looked up exactly what it was, and was quite relieved.
Cyclothymia is not as serious as bipolar disorder or depression. It is a rare mood disorder that causes emotional ups and downs, but they're not as extreme as those in bipolar I or II disorder. You should look it up. It's interesting.
I talked to my school counselor about it (during one of my hyperactive phases) and she called my parents, and THEY took me to my doctor. She put me on quetiapine but, since she had never dealt with a patient with cyclothymia before, didn't realize that the medication wasn't for everyone. All it did was worsen it, and my life went downhill very quickly. They brought me back a few months later, and they took me off of the meds and started bringing me to therapy. I found it stupid and ineffective, so I stopped. They figured it best to just not do anything for me, and I was okay with that. I still am. But, I'm not at all better than I was when I started experiencing everything.
So, there. That's my fucked up mind, for you.
Don't worry. I know what you're wondering. My "love life."
And, now you should worry. Because I'll tell you about it, soon.
But let's just reflect on how I am.
Hmmmm.
Stupid.
Overreactive.
Judgemental.
Cyclothymic.
Fucked up.
Horrible at writing.
And, did I mention, stupid?
Do I sound like someone you want to read about?
Yay! You're correct! The answer is no. So, if you want, you can stop reading now. I'm okay with that.
