Oh my, I have another psychiatrist again and he's booooooooooring. And so predictable. I hate psychiatrists because I've never met one that's had a fucking clue, they all treat me like a retard or some lost soul, but I'm just a normal guy with a different way of thinking. Plus I've got a girlfriend now and she thinks I'm pretty neat, so therefore I am neat.
The first thing this psychiatrist said was 'what was your childhood like?' and I said good and he said 'just good? Or too good to be true?' and I said neither, it was regular and normal. Then he asked about my parents and what I thought of them and I said I thought they were great and I couldn't ask for better parents. Which is true because they are great and I couldn't ask for better parents, and even if I wanted to I wouldn't know who to ask so it's out of the question. Then he said 'hmm, I see' and at that point I just decided to give up. And he kept saying my name over and over and over again. It was 'so Justin...' 'Is that true Justin?' 'Are you sure Justin?' 'Justin could you please explain...' I know my fucking name for crying out loud! It was so frustrating I considered pulling my pretty little curls out of my head.
You see the problem with psychiatrists is that I never feel I can talk to them, which is the whole point of going. Actually I don't know why I'm going because it's not like I need it, it's just a requirement of work, and since I fired my other I had to get a new one. And they always make it seem like my parents fault, like they should of done something even though I was born this way. It makes me so mad! My parents did an exceptional job, even though I was difficult, even though I was the odd one out. They could have put me up for adoption and I wouldn't have blamed them, because especially when I was a moody teenager I could be really troublesome, I realize that now. And I realize how hard it's been for them bringing me up, I have to give them so much credit for that. I really really hate it when they blame the parents. There is such a thing as free will and independent thought. So I decided to have some fun with this idiot of a man and it went like this:
Can you think of anything that sticks out in your mind from your childhood?
Well I did have an imaginary pet dragon (which isn't true, I just was having fun).
What was this dragon's name?
Puff
Puff?
Yes, he was a chain smoking dragon, very sad how he died. Very sad.
Tell me Justin, how did he die?
Steam roller
Steam roller Justin?
Yes, I ran him over with a steam roller. That's on my permanent record right? The time I stole a steam roller?
No, it isn't. How old were you?
Seven years old
Seven? That's very young Justin.
Yup
Did you cause much trouble when you were younger?
Oh well... I kept burning things
Burning things? Like what?
Well it started off being just simple garbage cans, then I set fire to this old lady's cat -it was so funny! And then I once set fire to some trees. Almost got arrested for that.
Why did you burn things Justin?
The voices told me.
Voices in your head?
Yes, very much so. OH! They're telling me to do something now!
And at this point he sits up a bit. What are they telling you to do Justin?
To set fire to your toupee.
What toupee would that be? (Which is a stupid question because he obviously had something on his head and it looked like a wig which Dad called a 'toupee'.)
Then I started singing Firestarter by The Prodigy (and hummed the music when there was no singing) and I think he got a bit worried. He had about fifty different wrinkle lines on his forehead, at first I thought I'd gone too far because he might actually be nice and his hair might be real and just looks fake and now I've gone and worried him. But then something happened and changed my mind which was when he leaned forward to get a book off the table between us and as he tipped his head forward one of the corners of his 'non-existent toupee' peeled off his scalp and showed itself to be fake and then I got mad. I decided I would carry on, because truth be told I was having fun. It wasn't so much that he lied to me, it was just that he lied because he was vain and didn't want to admit that his hair was fake. God doesn't like vanity because it is one of the seven deadly sins, and if God doesn't need a toupee then neither does anyone else.
I wonder what I'd look like bald. I think I'd still be pretty.
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