Non Fiction Fiction
"Why did you do it?" The therapist asked. Wouldn't he like to know. Wouldn't he like it to just be that easy. Well it wasn't a simple "I did it becuase" answer. God theriapists think their all that! They think that all they have to do is ask a couple of questions and you'll be on your knees crying the whole story. How long had this Mr.Therapist known me anyways? An hour at the most? I'm supposed to tell this guy everything about me and then what? He's going to offer some ingenious explanation?
No one would understand why I did it, and no way was Mr. Therapist going to believe why I did it. "I'm waiting, Evangaline." Mr. Therapist looked at me over the top of his clip board. "Angie." He but the clip board down. "What?" This guy was going to be a real pain, I could tell. "I like being called Angie." He nodded slowly then scribbled something down on his paper. I hate when people nod slowly at me, it makes it look like their trying to comprehend who I am or something. "Well...Angie. Why did you do it?" I crossed my legs and played with my hands nervously in my lap. "I..I mean I don't know, for a lot of reasons I guess." He found this important. He pushed the clip board to the side of the desk and leaned towards me. People are always doing this to make whatever you have to say seem "confidential". Like he's not going to pick that clip board up and write the whole thing down as soon as I leave. "And what are those reasons Angie?" I sighed and said for about the millionth time to about the millionth person "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." I knew what his answer would be. Whenever someone says that to you your automatic first thought is that you will believe it, but in truth you just want to hear what they have to say. "Angie I have heard some pretty crazy things in my day."
"Not as crazy as this, and mine is even more crazy because I'm sane." I swear I am sane. Not a single person doubts it until they hear my story, then they all think I'm crazy. I've only told three people why I did it, and that's why I'm in therapy. I told my mom, my dad, and my best friend Diggs, his real name is Douglas but I mean who likes the name Douglas? Diggs cried when I told him, he said he was sorry to lose such a great friend. That made me cry. "I don't think you've lost your mind Angie, I just think you're confused." Oh yeah like that makes it better. "You know if you don't tell me your parents will." That right there was the reason he gets paid so much, reasoning with a teen is easy if the word parents is involved. If my parents told him he would think I was more crazy. "Fine." I whispered. "I'll tell you, but you're in for a long night Mr. Therapist, and when I'm done you will think I'm crazy. I guarentee it." He smirked. "We'll see, Angie." I smirked back, only becuase I knew that too soon it would turn to horror.
No one would understand why I did it, and no way was Mr. Therapist going to believe why I did it. "I'm waiting, Evangaline." Mr. Therapist looked at me over the top of his clip board. "Angie." He but the clip board down. "What?" This guy was going to be a real pain, I could tell. "I like being called Angie." He nodded slowly then scribbled something down on his paper. I hate when people nod slowly at me, it makes it look like their trying to comprehend who I am or something. "Well...Angie. Why did you do it?" I crossed my legs and played with my hands nervously in my lap. "I..I mean I don't know, for a lot of reasons I guess." He found this important. He pushed the clip board to the side of the desk and leaned towards me. People are always doing this to make whatever you have to say seem "confidential". Like he's not going to pick that clip board up and write the whole thing down as soon as I leave. "And what are those reasons Angie?" I sighed and said for about the millionth time to about the millionth person "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." I knew what his answer would be. Whenever someone says that to you your automatic first thought is that you will believe it, but in truth you just want to hear what they have to say. "Angie I have heard some pretty crazy things in my day."
"Not as crazy as this, and mine is even more crazy because I'm sane." I swear I am sane. Not a single person doubts it until they hear my story, then they all think I'm crazy. I've only told three people why I did it, and that's why I'm in therapy. I told my mom, my dad, and my best friend Diggs, his real name is Douglas but I mean who likes the name Douglas? Diggs cried when I told him, he said he was sorry to lose such a great friend. That made me cry. "I don't think you've lost your mind Angie, I just think you're confused." Oh yeah like that makes it better. "You know if you don't tell me your parents will." That right there was the reason he gets paid so much, reasoning with a teen is easy if the word parents is involved. If my parents told him he would think I was more crazy. "Fine." I whispered. "I'll tell you, but you're in for a long night Mr. Therapist, and when I'm done you will think I'm crazy. I guarentee it." He smirked. "We'll see, Angie." I smirked back, only becuase I knew that too soon it would turn to horror.
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