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Words 2000 Words, August 2000 a million dollar painting | a million dollar painting |
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So I had an appointment today with Dr. H*******. He asked me all these questions like he knew me including if I was having any more suicidal thoughts. I'm sorry but that's where I draw the line. I was very open with him and told him that I don't feel any better but I'm not letting him lock me up in some mental institution. If anyone's going to do that I want it to be Michelle. I'm even afraid to tell her. She seemed sort of not wanting to talk Monday and it made me uncomfortable. She only made things worse by talking about the friends I don't have, the friends I've loved and lost over the years, and the friends that she wants me to make at college. I cried myself to sleep last night and wanted more than ever to slit my wrists. I can't tell her that. She'll just go tell Dr. H******* and scold me for not telling him everything. She'll tell me that he needs to know everything so that he can treat me. Well fuck that. I don't even want to take the meds anymore. They're fucking up everything. I can't think anymore. I'm not sleeping. I told him that but I'm taking too many other things to worry about taking something to help me sleep. At least I didn't have to wait an hour for him. I got home by five-thirty so I only had to wait about forty minutes which isn't that bad because I was alone in the waiting room and I brought a really good book. I kept listening to L***** on the phone. She's so funny to listen to. And she's so nice. She asked me if I wanted her to call and remind me of my appointments with H*******. I told her no and said that Lisa thinks I just go see my horse a lot. She said she'd spend all her time there and even have lunch with him if she could. She had two arabs but broke her neck trying to put drapes up and sold them. Now her daughter wants a horse. So does Dr. H*******'s daughter. He told L***** that he can't say no to her. That's bull shit. She'll come out fucked up simply because he DOESN'T say no to her. I believe her name is S*******. He has one of her drawings up in his office. I'm guessing she's about ten. Anyhow, on to other topics. I hate my painting. What pretty colors they all say. Fuck that too. They're not supposed to be pretty. They're angry and sad and..death. They look like death. My paintings mean a great deal to me and they say they're pretty and kick ass as Lisa said. She kept using that term-kick ass. I hope hers turns out kick ass. I want to do sad next. I've done death, anger and chaos. Now I want to do sadness. Blues and maybe some green and black. A midnight blue. My dad said it was a million dollar painting. I'm not sure I'll have the strength and courage to tell Michelle I don't want to talk about friendships on Thursday. I'm supposed to make up a list of the things I want in a friendship. I can't do this twice in one week. It's too much. And it only makes me sadder and more angry. I can't handle more sadness right now. I'm too suicidal already. I can only cover up so much sadness when I go there. And she sees right through me. Everyone thinks this is helping me when all it is doing is making me realize what's wrong with my life. Michelle also wants me to read through my journal and find the things that I want to talk about. I can't read that thing again. I just want to finish it so that I can destroy it. Last update: 01-08-2000 23:00
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