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.