(no subject)
You ever fall asleep, and have an awful dream, wake up, and actually wished your dream was real, 'cause real life is worse?
I got kicked out of school yesterday.
It's been a loaded cannon for a while now, and I'm not surprised. What bothers me is the asshole of a vice principal that gets to John Hancock the release form. Brian Schouten. I hope he, somehow or another, reads this entry, and realizes his mistake. I want him to know the torment he caused, and the feelings of hatred I feel towards him for being the posterboy of ignorance. If people could just listen. Listen to the cries for help, not attention.
I have a severe depression problem, and while I could get diagnosed by a doctor, formally, I don't like doctors, and it's much harder when you don't know how to find the words to explain it. The clamminess of perspiration in your palms, the rapid heartbeat that seems to explode through your chest, making your mind think the area of your shirt around your heart is actually moving. The violent shaking.
All my absences are parent-approved, and that bastard has the balls to talk to my mom with such disrespect, and ignorance. I loathe his ignorance.
I fear dependance. If I receive a medication to reverse, or at least diminish my depression, there's no way I can take it, because I'll become attatched to it. I'll grow a tolerance for it. It's not fair.
The smug look on his face when he spoke the words, "I'm removing you from school." The way he walked, escorting me to his office. The way he he refused to comprehend my distaste in alternative education programs.
His first words to me; "I see someone's catching up on their sleep."
I hope he realizes it's all his fault.
I got kicked out of school yesterday.
It's been a loaded cannon for a while now, and I'm not surprised. What bothers me is the asshole of a vice principal that gets to John Hancock the release form. Brian Schouten. I hope he, somehow or another, reads this entry, and realizes his mistake. I want him to know the torment he caused, and the feelings of hatred I feel towards him for being the posterboy of ignorance. If people could just listen. Listen to the cries for help, not attention.
I have a severe depression problem, and while I could get diagnosed by a doctor, formally, I don't like doctors, and it's much harder when you don't know how to find the words to explain it. The clamminess of perspiration in your palms, the rapid heartbeat that seems to explode through your chest, making your mind think the area of your shirt around your heart is actually moving. The violent shaking.
All my absences are parent-approved, and that bastard has the balls to talk to my mom with such disrespect, and ignorance. I loathe his ignorance.
I fear dependance. If I receive a medication to reverse, or at least diminish my depression, there's no way I can take it, because I'll become attatched to it. I'll grow a tolerance for it. It's not fair.
The smug look on his face when he spoke the words, "I'm removing you from school." The way he walked, escorting me to his office. The way he he refused to comprehend my distaste in alternative education programs.
His first words to me; "I see someone's catching up on their sleep."
I hope he realizes it's all his fault.