I'm Not Who Everyone Thinks I Am

My mom is sending me to therapy.
She says I look unhappy recently.

So, you finally noticed, huh?
Took you long enough.

She thinks I'm upset about her miscarriage.
Not exactly.

Maybe the therapist will give me pills.
That would be great, I hear overdosing isn't such a bad way to go.

I have to go to the therapist once a week.
Fan-fucking-tastic.

My dad says I better get happy, fast.
Therapists are expensive.
Okay, Dad.
Let me just go glue my face in to a permanent smile.
Would that work for you?

A therapist...
Wow.

I am crazy.