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1:53 AM
Dr. Edwards took one look at my hands today and I smirked when he rolled his eyes. I didn't see the big deal, because my hands looked like this more often than not, and there have been plenty of times when the outcome was far worse than dry blood and a few scratches. He reiterated that I have anger issues—as if I've never heard that before—but based on information he acquired from other doctors and therapists and psychiatrists I've seen, he told me that I'm an insomniac, which I knew. He told me that I'm a pathological liar. He asked me if I cared, and I said no.
Which was a lie, sort of.
There had been a girl there before I was called in today, sitting quietly in the waiting room, and I assumed she had to be a regular because she didn't look annoyed or angry or anything like I did. Her eyes were big and they were the lightest brown I've ever seen and I'm pretty sure I noticed that she was staring at me before she did, but I only saw her through my peripherals. My eyes stayed locked on a clump of dust on the floor, never looking in her direction once. Something about her made me feel...different.
