i gripped the backpack tight and looked around and begin to leave walking ahead and outside she wouldnt tell me anything for the first few minutes but she wouldnt stop looking at me and crying this didnt bother me given certain circumstances of events at home the night before she mightve been drunk my step dad and i got into a fight i told them i hope they all die calling them pieces of shit and screaming i told them i would kill them probably said ill kill myself my step dad had me pinned down on the floor i dont know where my sister was and i dont remember much other than lying in bed screaming how much i hated everyone with the door locked around me were posters of serial killers and horror movies my favorite bands video games so watching my mom cry at eight in the morning didnt really phase me when i had all this other stuff to look at we arrived at the hospital in hartford and she explained i was sick i needed help then she pulled out letters and multiple pages of letters i had written she had found in my room only because it would not be my actions the night before but a phone call from a friends mother id have band practice at this friends house to write in my free time she also found letters over the time since i moved to canton in eighth grade i had written hundreds of violent graphic letters drawn hundreds of a plans so many i was leaving bread crumbs im sure a doctor truly understands how this all feels so far right im not going to explain my full story and my recovery took years i didnt go back to school for over a month therapy was a routine and i know what its like to try to break five inch thick glass with a fifty pound chair i know what its like to punch plexiglass windows to be in a room with padded walls and floors there were a lot of us there a lot of us didnt need to be to the doctor on tv to the news channels to the president to the victims to the shooter this isnt mental illness this is miscommunication this is a product of your environment this is a lack of care and decency had i been able to sit at a lunch table when i first moved and not be ridiculed just brcause i was new and try to fit in had i not been given attitude from teachers while watching them treat other students differently had i not been going home to verbal abuse or family blowouts had i not been pants in gym had i not just gotten my ass kicked and had people the common sense and mutual respect to introduce themselves and be invitingnone of this would have been conjured up into my fourteen year old head and had i not found something i love this writing and music people were going to die and thats just the honest truth so i just want to ask the doctor was going through all that part of your curriculum because from what i now understand at twenty five years old is most of the people who terrorized me were always telling me what was wrong with me the few friends i have now are the ones who ask whats wrong again this in not mental illness this is miscommunication this is for the people who are like the person i just described you can get through this you need to so we can tell our stories we have the real answers you can make something beautiful out of this cause michelangelo didnt carve the statue of david in a day hey teacher leave them kids alone hey teacher leave them kids alone i know you feel