I hate therapy. It’s for psychopaths and emotionally compormised losers.
I am neither of those.
I’m just a teenager. And teenagers do stupid things.
Stupid things like skipping school, spraypainting buildings, smashing mailboxes, and driving with a suspended license.
That does not make them psychopaths or emotionally compromised losers. It just makes them free.
I told my therapist Claire this. Her response was that I am “too free.”
Never tell a punk he’s too free. Never.
And never give him a diary. Never.
Otherwise he will piss on the book every time you ask him to turn it into you. (Sorry Diary for pissing on you. but it had to be done.)

Anyways, so this Claire bitch told me that I am “too free” and that I should meet other teenagers who are in therapy too. You know, to “talk out” our teenage problems.
I do not want to “talk out” my problems.
But I have to.

So next week I will attend the “dance” being held by Claire’s firm.
Fuck Claire. Fuck her caked up face. And fuck this squeeky leather chair.