So they think that I can be fixed. Am I broken? They think that I can change. But what they don't know is I like the things the way they are. I like it when people stare at me as I walk down the street. I makes me smile. I got called down to the office at school today. They wanted to know how I get blood stains on my shirts. I asked them how they think I got them. They think there is abuse in my home. I said and there isn't any in yours? The psychotherapist is nothing compared to the school counselor. He thinks everything is in my head. That I suffer from schizophrenia. Ha... He wants to fix me... But what they will never understand is the feeling of release when I take a hit. When I run the razor over my skin. When I drink that acid. Its like a rock has been lifted off my shoulders. So I don't think I need to be fixed.