Wattpad Block Party - Summer Edition III (August 2017)

kristimcm Introduces 'It Ended Online'

I like her because she doesn't push me to talk about everything that brought me to her right off the bat, like I expected. I guess I thought she would jump right in, drilling me on my hell, my anxiety, and all my transgressions, but so far we just talk about my family and things I like. Nothing too deep or scary. Although I have seen her eyes flicker to the scars on my wrists more than once, and I know she wants me to tell her everything that brought me to the point of inflicting them on myself.

Maybe that is why she gave me this assignment. Maybe she figures talking to an anonymous screen will get me to open up, be more honest than I am with her, since in these last two months, all we've talked about was surface crap: my family, how my dad left when I was three, how my mom works all the time to support me, and the only other family I have close is my grandparents, my friends who are virtually non-existent part from Sherry and Erin. They are the only two who have stuck by me since it all started, even if it did make their social lives a little harder for the association with me. School; which I usually just say is 'fine'.

Of course, we both know that is a huge lie.

Huffing at myself, I rein in my wayward thoughts and look back to the computer screen. I have multiple windows open, like I always do. Twitter, email, messenger and the online diary that Dr. Trepner promised me was completely secure. I gave her a death glare when she suggested I put my thoughts online. Was she trying to push me over the edge again, or was this some twisted type of reverse psychology therapy crap? Since this torment started online, to then divulge my inner most pain to the same medium was a sickening thought. What if someone found it? What if everything I said, everything I thought, was only used against me by the same assholes that spent their every waking moment searching out ways to fuck with me? Catching my look, I saw her cheeks blaze as she realized her error, before quickly stammering that the site is completely safe, and many of her patients use it. No one will ever know what I write, unless I want them to.

I have therapy again on Monday, and I know Dr. Trepner will be asking what I have been writing. She promised me I didn't have to show her my diary, unless I wanted to. A tactic, I am sure, to gain my trust in the belief that one day I actually will show her. Again, doubtful, but either way I should at least try. My mom is paying a butt-load for this therapy, promising me it will help. The least I can do is try.

Because I do want help. I need help.

Reading over the first few points on the instruction page, I try to formulate answers in my head to these simple questions. They are all very basic, non-threatening type questions. This should be an easy start, but I still feel my heart rate increasing as I come to some of the more triggering questions, such as why I am starting therapy.

Lifting my fingers and laying them gently back down onto the keys, I start to type my random thoughts before I procrastinate any further.

October 3

Dr. Trepner said to be completely honest in this, so I am going to be. If anyone does hack in to this and you don't like what you read, then maybe you shouldn't have earned your place in what I am about to say.

My name is Alex Carpenter. I am a junior at Glendale High School in Glendale, California. I am 5'6", have brown hair and green eyes. I have freckles on my cheeks like my mother, and am horrible at any kind of athletics, but am slim I guess. I don't think I am particularly pretty. I am average in every way.

My family consists of my mom, and my grandparents. My dad is a dick who took off when I was three. His name was Mike. I don't even remember what he looks like because my mom burned all the pictures she had of him. I did the same when I turned eight to the few she hadn't destroyed. He was a truck driver, so I have no idea where he could be, and I don't care.