12 Days: ni;f wafaakl;asfdkl

Yes, I did just pound the keyboard viciously, instead of typing an actual title. Do you have a PROBLEM with that?!

beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep...

--Please excuse the interruption. The author started trying to eat the desk chair and was forced down with a tranquilizer bullet. Her psychiatrist has confined her to quarters. What follows is the transcript of their conversation.--

--P.S. This may possibly be illegal. Anyone who reports this blog to the authorities will be reprimanded severely by a narcoleptic Argentinian.--

Well, here we are again. Why do you think we keep having to get together, Jessica?

Because the universe HATES me.

You're deflecting, Jessica. You're trying to avoid the real issue at heart.You're ignoring your own personal responsibility for what's happening.

I didn't ask to come here. And I'm pretty sure I gave a bloody nose to one of the guys trying to force me onto that couch. I've been taking charge just like you told me, and yet - Look! I'm still here. So don't blame me for this lovely little get-together.

This is about you, Jessica. This is about why you keep having nervous breakdowns. ...would you like to talk about why you're so tense?

It couldn't be because I've been drugged, kidnapped, and locked in a room with a man I once pushed out a four-story window. That would just make sense.

You seem hostile.

I was BORN hostile. I used to beat up boys in my Nursery class. (True story.)

You aren't answering me. You're avoiding talking - 

Yeah, that's right. I'm avoiding talking. I have a right to speak when I want to and a right to shut the heck up when I want to. I don't want to be here. I don't want to talk to you. And I certainly don't want to talk about ME. I'm my least favorite subject.

....Alright.

....Alright?

Yes. That's fine. We don't have to talk about you.

....Really?

Yes.

....Okay. Good....

Do you feel better? Can we talk about something else?

Yeah. Okay.

Good. So, how's school?

beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep...

--Please excuse the interruption. The author has been moved to new quarters after beating her psychiatrist to a bloody pulp. We at Singing Devil feel it might be best to end the blog post now. We will return tomorrow, after the author has finished trying to bite off her own legs--