Chapter 7 – February 20th
My therapist got me to open my mouth today. She threatened that if I didn’t open my mouth, she’d get me to call my mother and talk to her for half an hour. I immediately started talking.
We discussed the reasons I’m here, and what I could possibly do to get out. She threw a lot of suggestions at me. It was too much information to take in during one session.
After a little while, I snapped at her and she let me go back to my room. I guess nothing gets past her.
I’m sitting in the darkness of my room. I don’t know where my roommate is. I just dragged a razor across my wrist and now I’m bleeding all over this notebook. I hope therapists like blood stains.
This will show her just how desperate I am for death.
