The Disorderd
- Reads 86
- Votes 4
- Parts 1
Ongoing6m
Last published Fri, Dec 6, 2013
"Disorder" I had always hated hearing that word. It was like nails on a chalkboard to me. Every since I was 4, going to the doctors was always an intern staring fest. I guess I didn't quite explain far enough. A KID who is diagnosed with DID, (dissociative identity disorder for those who don't know), it means I'm one of those freaks who can be one person one hour and them another one the next. They always stared, wanted to poke and prod and it was annoying as.... Fuck. It was always a new doctor and new interns too, I always had to move away from my "beloved homes" and the "beloved doctors." My "disability" caused me trouble at school but I don't understand. They say that I do bad things but all I do day to day, is learn, go home, and sleep. Strangely enough I'm always behind in my work, at least a day or two, and somehow I end up in detention about every other day. My mom insists that I just have memory issues, great another "disability" I need.
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