Heritage kills brain cells.

"Sometimes I feel like it's just me
Sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy
But take a look at my family
Cuz the apple don't fall too far from the tree."

First things first, I'd like to thank Eminem for that opening quote. Can't sue me now, fucker

The above quote is from the song "The Apple". It's also a quote that applies to me heavily.

See, I have a fair few mental issues. Depression, anxiety, stress, anger, maybe some more that I haven't learned of yet. I even get chronic migraines. Now, none of this is special in it's own right. A lot of people have these problems. But that's not the point of this post.

All of those things run in my family. Depression, anxiety, stress, anger, migraines, all of it.
There's even more things that run in my family, like addiction and diabetes.

Now, depression, anxiety, migraines, addiction, and diabetes, are hereditary, and several studies point to stress and anger problems being hereditary as well.

So basically, my mental health was fucked before birth.

Anyone who has met my father will tell you, the dude's fucked up. He has a lockbox where he keeps all his meds. I don't know where he puts it, or where the key is, but I've seen it, and I've seen all his meds.

He takes meds for: Depression, anxiety, anger, stress, seizures, and every bodily problem he has due to his younger life of gangster-ing around Los Angeles and drug abuse. And that's just to function daily.

Sooner or later, I'm gonna be on meds. While it won't be as many as my dad (so long as I never get addicted to drugs and fuck up my body), it'll be a lot. It's another reason I went back to therapy, to see exactly what problems I have and what I can do to fix (or lessen) them.

I'd better start going lockbox shopping.

I did the thing.

You know what's great?
Firsts.
And by far, the best first is the first kiss. At least, of all the firsts I've experienced.

Which is something I experienced.
Like, literally yesterday. (Technically 2 days ago, as it's currently 2 o'clock, Sunday morning.)

Frontier restaurant, sitting in a booth with my friends who I was hanging out with that day, around 2:30 pm, and the girl I've been talking to (And flirting super hard with) for the past week or so walked in. One of my friends knew who she is. He's the one who introduced me to her (He's like the bestest bro ever now). And then he promptly threw the friend that was sitting next to me out of the seat so she could sit next to me.

So she did. I've mentioned before that I have anxiety, and oh man I was shaking. My mind and heart were in an endless sprint for the gold medal, and my leg was vibrating at such a high speed I felt like it was going to phase its molecules through the floor.

And we all talked, her, my friends and I. I put my arm around her and all that shit, and then we locked eyes.
And then, bam.

First kiss.
It took me 17 years but god damn it I did it.

And then second, a couple minutes later.

She only got to stay for about 20 minutes, but it was a fantastic 20 minutes.

I walked her to her car, after that.

Bam, third kiss.
It seemed like neither of us wanted to stop. I sure didn't, but she had to go.

The rest of the day, I was on this feeling of just pure happiness and such and ego boost to my mediocre self-image that if I watched my best friend get hit by a bus, I wouldn't stop smiling and I'd immediately heal him.

That's how great I felt.
And I'm still feeling it.

I can't wait to see her again.

Woop woop pull over dat ass too fat

title unrelated.

So, I started therapy again today.
Maybe it'll work this time, maybe it won't, but I'm not holding my breath.
It did absolutely nothing 5 years ago.
Partly because talking about my personal shit is extremely difficult for me, but mostly because it seemed like they wanted to just hand me meds and shove my shit under the rug.

Now, I'm fine with taking meds, but the therapist I had last time didn't give a shit about my problems. All she wanted to do was play board games about feelings and shit to get me to say just enough so that she can prescribe me some placebo shit that solved none of my anger, depression, or anxiety. It was a waste of my time and my parents' money.

So I stopped going, and I've been extremely cynical of therapy since.

Over the course of 7 years, as 7 years ago some fucked up shit happened that fucked my life, and the lives of my family up, shit has been piling and piling on top of me, to the point where I have to use 110% of myself just to get out of bed. I'm stressed to no end, I'm constantly angry and irritated, and the anxious thoughts are ceaseless.

These are the reasons I'm missing 11 fucking credits in school. The reasons I sleep all day when I get home, because I'm too worn out to do anything. The reasons I lay on my bed with my Xbox on, and my laptop open, not touching either of them because I'm too disinterested in everything to do either.

And it hit me that my life is bullshit.

So, I went back to therapy.
I seem to have gotten a not shitty therapist this time.
Maybe it'll work.
We'll see.