If You're Going To Speculate, Don't Do It To My Face, Thanks

I don't like my parents.

They didn't abuse me. I just don't like them.

I also don't like people who make me feel like such a defective person that obviously something must have been done to me in my childhood to make me act the way I do.

I guess I'm just not a nice person, okay? Not everyone is.

Today I had an appointment with my shrink. Getting there was another bus adventure. The actual appointment was completely uneventful. I think he is my favoritest shrink ever - he doesn't give a rat's ass about me. He doesn't remember anything about me. He doesn't look at my file. He just asks if I want to change my medication. I don't.

Ok, so, to recap: if my own psychiatrist is not interested in my childhood... right. You'd be gaining no insight to question me about mine.

You know, I think I just might take certain comments a little bit to personally every now and then.

She Who Said It First Said It Best

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