Even Prime

I need to stop going to the psychiatrist.

I decided this last night while baked. A friend and I drove down to the river and smoked a bowl. It was such a peaceful setting. Sitting on the hood of his car, Portishead melting out through the car windows, and the northern lights dancing in front of us. We did a lot of talking, and I did a lot of thinking. I decided that my psychiatrist isn’t doing jack. She spits out the same bullshit every session. And it doesn’t help. She says things like they are an instant fix, but nothing is that easy. I know I need to figure this out on my own- to put my head back on my shoulders. With the help of my awesome friends, things will and are getting better.

Yet sometimes I still feel so alone in this world. And I hate that.

 2002-05-20 - 2:32 a.m.

<<>>