I walk in the air, between the rain, through myself and back again. Where? I don't know.

I love my brother.

I was just on the phone with Ryan, and he said this:

"I just hate psychiatrists, that's all. I mean, I do process stuff. I think about it in my head. Talking about stuff makes me feel worse, not better. And the shrink's only in it for the money anyway. Besides that, the whole 'express yourself' thing is rigged. They hand you a pen and paper. 'Draw,' they say. So I draw an uzi. That makes me violent and repressed. I draw a flower. That makes me gay. I can't win. That's why I quit going to the shrink."

That kid. And he's only thirteen.

posted by Emma @ Friday, April 02, 2004