Counselors Are Tards.

So I went to this counselor today that my crazy mother wanted me to go to, I honestly think she needs more help than I but unfortunately, that's not my call. Oh well, whatever back to the story. Well of course I don't tell her much of anything, a few lies here and there. What do they expect me to do? Dump my heart out to some stranger with a Norwegian accent I can barely understand? I think not.
But when I was there, I remembered back to last year, where I was depressed for six months straight and I didn't tell anyone about it. Of course, I didn't mention that. When she asked about depression I said "nope, never had it." of course, another lie. I remember telling some other counselor about that and she thought I was a crazy lunatic who was planning to overdose and jump off a bridge. Alright, no. I love my life. It's awesome. Peachy. But I get depressed sometimes, everyone does. It's not a big deal. I have no reason to mention it.
Actually, I try to tell this woman as little as I can. People like them lie, they tell when they say they won't. Don't tell them anything. They suck. I hate them. I don't know why I'm there. My mother needs therapy, not me. My mother's insane.
So thats it. Alright I got nothing else. I'll chat with you guys tommorow. Later, peace, hugs and kisses, chicken wings, Justin Bieber is a Christmas Elf, and bye.