If you send hate messages but don’t show your face then you’ve issues. Grow some balls to show your face you dumb shit.
I waited and waited but then my therapist let me in, I sat in a big brown leather chair and he started to ask me how I was doing.
"I’m fine" was what I told him but for the first time he believed me, I know it’s because 75% of me is happy but I’m still sick and I’m tired of being sick.
The pain floats through my veins and I can’t stop but thinking “I should cut the pain away”.
Tuesday night my heart stopped beating and I couldn’t breath anymore, I was in the hospital already because I had a weird pain in my chest. I saw doctors hanging above me and then everything went black, I thought I died but then everything came back to life. They saved me.
Why didn’t I tell him that I had a heart attack in the hospital, what if I had died? He loves me, that’s what I know for sure but why can’t I tell the boy what’s going on with me, he knows I’m a little sick but why can’t I tell the whole story.
My therapist told me his daughter played a song called Addict with a pen on repeat for the weekend and it reminded him of me. He said “You only tell your problems in words on paper and pretend like they disappear after, you’re an addict, an addict with a pen.”
I didn’t know what to say, he was right. Besides my parents and some family members no one knows I’m really sick.
Maybe I like being an addict with a pen but I have to realize problems don’t disappear by writing them down, they’re just hiding.