alexithymia; m.g.c

hues;

January First, Two-Thousand Sixteen.
Somewhere in Sydney.

Dear diary or whatever-the-fuck-you-want-to-call-it,

Apparently I'm supposed to write down my 'feelings' in this book.

So here it goes.

My name is Michael Gordon Clifford. My birthday is November 20th, 1995. I change my hair color to different hues to match the atmosphere of my world.

The reason why I'm wasting my time writing this for you is because I apparently have this stupid ass "emotional condition" called alexithymia. I don't even know what the fuck it is, but I heard that it was something about concealing emotions and having trouble processing them. Very true in my case. I have to write in this notebook for this support group to somehow get through this dumb phobia.

You see, I'm forced to write in this. You never know if I'm lying or not. I only do this for the sake of myself.

I'm supposed to to to this class or sort of support group where I discuss my feelings (like that's going to happen) and talk to people with different conditions in a couple minutes or so. After, I have to make it to my therapist, Dr. Alyssa Joseph for a long ass session that won't help me in any way expect for new prescriptions of anti-depressants. I will continue to write tomorrow. I wrote so little today because I refuse to put down my walls, but mainly because I was supposed to do this yesterday and I'll get in trouble if I don't do it.

Your Friend,

michael