The doctor was wrong. I'm not crazy! I'm a mentally stable human being. I mean, how does he get the right to call me crazy when he's the one swimming at the bottom of a lake in the middle of November? No sane person would do such a thing! But 'ole Mr. Gambolini is a nutcase! Oh yes he is! Although I must give him this, he is a brave fellow for facing his fears, I mean I remember when he used to go on and on about how he is terrified of swimming in cold waters, but just look at him now, swimming like he was born in the Ocean!


I'm. Not. Crazy. I just really wish Mrs. Henderson would realize that, but why should I expect that from a lunatic like her, it's unjust and just plain cruel. Also, similarly to my former doctor, she doesn't have the right to judge, as she fell asleep in the bathtub a few days ago and still hasn't woken up! Now what type of mentally stable human being would drift off to sleep in a tub of water?!?

It is truly a shame. I remember when Mrs. Henderson would come out on those warm summer days and tend her garden while listening to her favorite music. I used to think fondly of her, but then she made the false assumption of calling me crazy.

I still attempt to think kind thoughts about her, but after I unleashed my rage against her for making a simple mistake, I doubt she'll do the same. Although if the good old Mrs. Henderson pushes through, I bet she'll at least try. Ah, I really miss the days when she'd come outside and offer me a cool glass of lemonade, and then have a conversation with me. One thing I learned over this past month is that she is just as brave as Mr. Gambolini, as she too faced her fears. I mean, who would've thought that the woman famous for being terrified of staying in water too long would be the same woman to lie in her bathtub for a week straight! I really admire both her ability to last that long without food or any source of nourishment, and the fact that she faces her fears head on.

I"m certainly not crazy. Although my therapist would beg to differ. Me and him would have such great talks with each other about politics and such, until my mental stability came into question. Okay, sure a therapist is supposed to be for people with mental turmoil, but that doesn't give him the right to ask such a rude question. Just as he asked me if I was crazy, I realized we were not going to have a friendly relationship.

Things just got worse from that point on, as he began to start off every session by asking, "Hey, how are you doing today?", as if I'm some sort of freak who needs to be monitored on how I'm doing at every waking moment of my life. unluckily for me, those types of derogatory questions did not cease to be asked no matter how much I pleaded and argued. Normally we talked about current events and things of that nature. Until one day he asked me, "What's Up?". Does he take me as some kind of fool? The ceiling is up of course, as is the sky and airplanes.

Speaking of airplanes, my therapist was deathly afraid of heights, which is why I was surprised to see him flying through the air when I was done with my last session, and even more surprised to see his window broken. I mean, he was a perfectionist after all!

I haven't heard from the guy since, I presume he's living a fun life flying with the birds, I always knew he'd be able to overcome his fear, all he needed was a little push!

I. AM. NOT. CRAZY. For the love of god nobody believes me, not even my own damn mother! Oh how I love her so dearly, but for a short period of time I was so angry with her we didn't even speak. It all started when she asked if I had gone grocery shopping! Of course I've gone grocery shopping! She must have thought I was crazy to not do such a thing, and such a question insulted me greater than anything else. She specifically asked me if I could go grocery shopping earlier that day, so I don't understand why she would underestimate me so much so, that she doesn't even believe I have the aptitude to remember such an easy task!

For such a perfectionist neat-freak I'm surprised she didn't find out by the time she asked the question! Speaking of which, this morning I was so confused seeing her sleeping in the garbage. I mean, it's so strange considering the fact that she can't even take a speck of dirt on her blouse without going insane on a normal day. I guess all she needed was a little bit of motivation to overcome her problem, as without my help, she wouldn't even be in there, sleeping as comfy as a bug in a rug! I guess some people just need to open their eyes a bit to find new things.

Speaking of grocery shopping, I really hate it when people make it so I have to steal. I'm sorry, but I just couldn't speak to the horribly rude cashier any longer, and intended to leave with my food I had gathered. The young cashier said, "Hi, I'm Jon, what's your name?". Jon is such an asshole, thinking I don't have the mental capability to remember my own name? What kind of incoherent fool would think such a thing?

The fact that my mental stability was called into question once again, forced me to do the unthinkable, steal. Once I snatched my food and ran, I noticed I was being chased down by Jon. I just kept on running until I came across a wall. Thinking I was cornered, Jon went in for the attack, but I just moved out of the way and jumped the wall. Once I jumped it, that lazy fool was too stupid to even attempt to jump the wall. I presumed he had a fear of heights or breaking bones. Speaking of which, I do believe upon jumping the wall I sprained my ankle. Not that big of a problem, a simple amputation should do the trick. Ooh, or maybe I could switch feet with someone else! Maybe- wait, back to the story.

After I noticed he wasn't jumping the wall, I scurried back to my house. The next day I sat on the couch of my desolate house and tuned into the news. I was shocked and secretly happy to find that the same cashier from yesterday was found thrown out of his apartment window early this morning. Albeit I was quite giddy, I silenced my emotions in fear of making myself out to be more insane than I was perceived to be.

Also, for the record, I'm not truly insane. I prefer the term, psychopathic.


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