I thought I'd post some fiction that I've written for you to read. Let me know what you think. This is not a true story, but is definitely based on some of my experiences. If people like it, I will post more of the story. Enjoy.

So, I'm sitting here in this damn office. Don't know how the hell I ended up here; don't know how I'm going to get out. I didn't want to come but there is nothing like a court order to get you to go to therapy. F*ck. Who ever thought that attempted suicide should be an arrestable offense should be shot. I've better things to do that sit in this god-forsaken, bland, yuppiefied office. …. Well I don't really, but f*ck, man.  

Maybe you want to know what a nice girl like me is doing in a place like this - well I could tell ya, but I won't. Why ruin the suspense. I'm sure so many of you care out there how one, single fleck of humanity can fall from "grace". *snort* grace, right. That's what I had. Gimme a break. Ain't no grace where I came from, just hidden pains and lashes. All a front, kids. Sure, it all looks hunky-dory on the Christmas cards and birthday parties, but it's not. Just a twisted world of people who eat each other whole to get ahead, even if… nah, especially if you're family. 

I can’t believe that people actually want to listen to other people bitch for a living. What on earth makes someone go to school, spend thousands of hours and dollars just to sit in a room and listen to someone else talk about show shitty their life is or how terrible their childhood was. I’ve got better things to do in my life than coddle some snot-nosed whiner.  

Yea, yea I know that I’m sitting in this damn office too. I’m not here by choice. I think this is a waste of time. Court-mandated therapy is a joke. Don’t know how this is going to help me out at all. That wasn’t my first suicide attempt, you know. Just the first one where I got caught. Sure, I’ve tried it before. Got the scars to prove it.  Just never seem to have the guts to go all the way before.  Doesn’t mean I won’t try again. What was it David Foster Wallace said about suicide? ‘it’s just a way of being neat. The people are gone already and you’re just taking care of the rest’ or something like that.  I don’t know. I’ve never been good at remembering the correct words for a quote, just the concepts.  Biggest reason I’m not a doctor or a scientist or something.  

I’m not happy with who I am and what I’ve be come. Sure I’ve a tough front, but I’m scared shitless inside. I’m not strong enough or good enough to be in this world. Better off with out me. The atoms in me could be doing useful things, like being plants or car parts or watering flowers, instead of this waste of carbon, hydrogen, oxygen and other trace elements.  

Now the door in front of me opens and out walks this wizened, old man. Really? This is the person who’s supposed to make it all better, help me find myself? How is he going to understand what’s happening in my life, what’s happened to me? I don’t think this is going to work.  

Wish I’d locked the door.