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Biggest bull--!!!!
Ok, a lot of my friends' know I've been going through some serious hell, and finding a way out is like going through a maze; it's a B****. Yesterday, I went to get an ice pack for my cut. ((Yeah, I'm a cutter, deal with it! stare And no, I'm not emo or any BS you can come up with. Just don't want people to assume stuff is all. mrgreen )) They asked my why I needed it, and at that time I could care less if anyone saw it; so, stupidly I showed them. Bad thing to do! A nurse, escourted me to the counslers at my school, getting me to introduce myself to them. Later, she took me to speak with a cousler, so I did. I told her that I wanted to kill myself and showed her my cuts' as well as told of my past. She took notes and other crap like that, as well as gave my mother a phone call. During seventh period, I was called down to the appointment they made me set up, and we had a conversation about my suicidal thoughts. They were scared (the bastards,) and took judgement based on their feeling. ((What kind of dumba$$ counsler does that S--!!! Honestly?!)) They were arranging a method of taking me to a mental hospital, and I told them they're only making my depression and stress go up from forcing this crap on me! I was really pissed at this time, and I told them I refuse to go. I went home and was about to leave then, (yes I'm serious,) police came to my door, and questioned me about a gun I could get. The said it was mandatory that I'd be escourted to the mental hospital, so that I can have a f'ing conversation with them! One of the two officer's gave me a search! ((Violation of my damn space much?!)) They acussed me of having weapons, but let me keep a mechanical pencil, and took away my CD player. ((How the F-- does that work?!)) I went to the hospital, and saw someone from school! Which is major bull! ((I got B****** out by her since I showed her my arm.)) I went in there, still escourted; felt like I was in my reputational future days. ((Some people say I'm going to be like my father.)) After four hours of chatting, I got my theropists manager on my side; and to favor what I had to say. They asked me what I wanted and what would help me, so I told them I wanted my space. No! They had to be idiots and worry about me. ((I'm not saying if you do you are, but they were in my face metaphoriclly asking damn questions if I would not kill myself that night.)) I finally wound up back home, and I have to deal with a second sound of this bull-- today! I seriously am going to snap if they point one damn finger at me and acuse they know my life! stare
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Community Member