It all started in 6th grade. That was when the bullying finally got to me, when I started cutting, crying myself to sleep. My depression has progressed greatly since then. 7th grade was when everyone (including my parents) started to realize something was wrong. My weight was dropping, along with my grades, I was always tired, I cried a lot.
Finally, my parents made me an appointment with a therapist, Mr. Porter. I'll admit, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, but it wasn't a walk in the park either. Talking about my feelings and all that mushy crap? Sooo not my thing.
But at least Porter isn't a total douche like I thought he would be. He's actually pretty cool, for a shrink at least. He has all these comfy ass chairs in his office that make it feel like your butt has died and gone to heaven, so that's a plus. Its always great to go and talk to him... until he makes me talk about my life.
But enough about the past, let's talk about why you're here. The present.