This chapter is just a rant, and no i don't have writers block mind you, I just want to rant about me and why I don't vent, read/listen to them.

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First of, my name is William. Well, not really, I prefer that name more than my real one. My favorite color is red, and my favorite food is chicken and rice. I enjoy reading and writing in my free time, I have 10 friends but about half in 2 different friend groups.
I'm from America, I know 4 languages English my first, Spanish 2d, German 3rd, and sign language 4th. I have an ex-boyfriend named Samuel and he is transgender.
I am asexual homoromantic, I like the same gender (female) but have little to no sexual orientation. I am gender-fluid, but I don't like gendered pronouns I prefer gender-neutral pronouns.

I was the therapist friend for about 4 and a half years, I've listened to people who admitted hurting themselves and having parents that argue a lot. I kept that stuff on my mind for years, and never told a soul.

My earliest traumatizing memory is when I had a glass shower door explode on my, I was about 6-7 years old. My newest one is when I had started SH and had a dream about it.

I don't listen to people venting because it makes me feel like I don't have any problems, and I'm just here to listen to their's and help them with it. While I'm here having anxiety attacks every time when someone talks about SH, getting aggravated at the smallest of things, crying when something goes wrong, bang on myself/hit myself when I write something wrong, not crying when it's the right time to cry, laugh when it's the wrong time, and make jokes about my depression in front of my friends to get them to realize that I'm not okay.

4 and a half years, of this hell.

"Now, why don't you vent it to someone?" You may ask, I don't want to seem like a bother or an attention seeker. I don't want people to say that it's okay when it's obviously isn't. I don't trust people I know like I used to, I feel down when I'm told to try harder. I have had a timer when I realized i wasn't okay, and it's been going on for 43 hours and 46 minutes, but I know it's been longer than that. I get scared when I'm crying and hear someone walking outside my room, and I write and think what I'm going to tell my friends about how I'm not the "happy friend" but I never do.

I hate talking to people about my feelings, and now I'm getting a therapist. That's the hole point of them, talk about your feelings 'n shit. My friend say to act depressed for the sad scene in the show we're doing I say "I don't need to 'cus I already am" they don't do anything about it just when we're done rehearsing they "give" me anti-depression pills. No "do you want to talk about it?" "Are you okay?" "Is something wrong?" "Are you really depressed? Or was that just a bit?" Nothing.

I'd rather be anywhere than where I am, and that's a fact.