Dear Stupid Journal,

I still think this is stupid. Especially since I don't know what to do with you when I'm not writing. If I leave you at home I don't doubt mum would tear apart my bedroom to read you. If I carry you around with me my paranoia says someone will take you out of my bag or locker and honestly the last thing I need is the entire school to know exactly how fucked I am. They already think they're better than me, no need for them to Know it for a fact.

I guess I'll carry you around with me, but you're not leaving my side damn it. Anyway moving on to when I was introduced to the freakshow that is group therapy.

Thursday after school instead of going home, like mom insisted I do, I went with my best friend Seth to Brger Kng. It was Burger king, until someone stole the i and the U off the sign. Yes, somewhere in this town a person is harboring the stolen vowels.

"I don't see what the big deal is Spence." Seth shrugged, leaning against the counter as he waited for someone to come in. "Lots of people go to therapy."

Oh yeah right.

"Name two." I challenged him.

"You and umm... okay, well you put me on the spot. If I had some time,"

"Shut up Price." I ordered. "And get me a hamburger."

"I thought you were trying to be a vegitarian." Seth teased.

"Either get me a burger or I'm going to eat your arm."

Oh yes, you can just feel the love between the two of us. He got me my burger and we sat there talking about an ad on for a live chat where they have this chick faking talking to someone Kissyface27 is her name. Until Seth's phone rang.

He wasn't supposed to have it on the job, but I wasn't gonna tell.

"It's for you." Seth handed the phone over. Yeah when people needed to get ahold of me they called Seth as I don't have my own phone. Something I blame on my mother.

"Spencer Jane Jordon! What did I tell you?" My mother shouted.

"Never do coke and pot on the same night." I guessed. When My mum's drunk she gives us some very useful information.

"No! well... yeah, but no! I told you to come home right after school. You have therapy."

"Oh right. I forgot about that." I lied. "Too bad mum, I made plans."

"With who?"

"Seth."

"To do what?" Okay, this next line is proof that I don't think before I speak and that is a bad thing when you're someone like me.

"Go back to his place and shag like rabbits." Seth turned bright red and nearly choked on the bite of Hamburger he'd stolen from me.

"Spencer Jane! That's not funny! Get home now!" Before I could argue mom hung up and I dropped my head onto the cold counter.

"Do they make Imodium AD for the mouth?" I asked Seth.

"I don't think they do." I pouted and got up, grabbing my bag, and headed out.

It was a very silent, very awkward ride to the centre. I was still pissed about therapy and mum was still angry about the shagging comment. She can be such a soggy towel. So eventually we got to the place and mum WATCHED ME WALK IN to make sure I didn't run for it.

I walked into The building, the room my mother told me to and looked around.

Holy hell this wasn't group therapy, this was somesort of sick twisted punishment.

This is what happens when you steal a cookie from your Nursey school teacher's lunch.

There were about nine chairs in a circle six of the nine chairs were taken and towards the front stood a man, around thirty, probably didn't have therapist for a bunch of whiney kids on his list of things he wanted to be when he grew up.

Anyway, this ids sitting in the chairs were pretty sad. All but one were guys, and the girl had Really long redish brown hair. most of the guys were all varying levels of wannabe scene and Emo. Long bands overing one eye, rolled up cloth thing around their heads and their pants were so tight I could guess their religion.

Oh this was promising to be fun.

The man looked up and broke into a creepy 'I'm going to eat your liver' sort of grin and walked over.

"You must be Spencer." My eyes grew wide and I resisted a gasp.

"They didn't tell you?" I asked. His grin fell and was replaced with a confused look.

"Tell me what?"

"Spencer died." I placed a hand over my heart. "I'm her sister Lily, I'm here to get our money back." The guy rolled his eyes, and smiled a little.

"Oh really and how'd she die?" He asked, amused.

"A horrible blender accident. She was being a sweetheart and making our mother her favorite drink ever, Pina Colada, and while she was doing it she was taking care of our mentally retarded brother Daniel. She wasn't paying attention, was adding the last ingerdient and woosh! Her hand hit the blades. She bled out, there was nothing we could do. But mum did say those were the best Pina Coladas she'd ever had. So if I could just get the money, I need to go pay for the casket." The man laughed, shaking his head.

"Cute Miss Jordon, take a seat." I frowned and went to sit, glaring at the man.

"Nice try." The girl next to me leaned over. "I went with the nut house." I smirked and looked at her. "I'm Kelly."

"Spencer." I nodded.

"Hey, after the meeting you wanna help me stalk these posers and strangle them with their headbands?" Kelly asked.

"Sounds like a party to me." I grinned. After a moment the doors burst open and a guy with black and white hair strolled in.

"I'm here, we can get this started." He smirked.

"Egotistical." Kelly muttered to me.

"Probably compensating for other... shortcomings." I agreed. Kelly snorted and the guys all turned to look at us.

I know I might come off as together and confident, but when I have a large number of people looking at me I tend to laugh, which at a funeral is a real curse. The man smiled at me and nodded for the new guy to sit.

"Well since Miss Jordon seems so chipper, why don't you intorduce yourself first? Then we get to ask questions." I bit my lip to stop laughing and stood up.

"Umm... my name is Spencer Jordon. I hate being called Miss Jordon." I added, lookig directly at Mr. Therapist, "And... yeah." I went to sit back down but before I could a boy with blonde hair, the only one that didn't look like a sorry attempt at Emo or Scene, asked,

"Why are you here?" I froze and looked at him.

"because of the-incident-that-shalt-not-be-named." I said automatically.

"What's that?" The late guy asked.

"That whole shalt-not-be-named bit went right over your head didn't it?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, Spencer, sit down. Who wants to go next?" Mr. Therapist asked.

In my group we had Garret (The late guy), Sam, Henry, Marc (With a C) Brett, Jordan, Cody (The non-wannabe) and Kelly. Finally Mr. Therapist stood up, his creepy Liver eating grin back.

"I'm Stan Franklin, I'd rather you all called me Stan."

"Ooh treating us like equals." Kelly smirked at me.

"Too bad I was sort of hoping for a patronzing dominating therapist. Please may I have another?" I finished in a somewhat mocking whisper. Kelly smiled and looked back at Stan.

"I don't want to think about what he'd look like in leather." I choked on the air.

Now this is the story of your birth Journal.

"Okay everyone." Stan said standing up after I'd gotten done coughing up my lung. "I'm going to give you Journals. I want you to write in them any time you can and just get out your feelings."

"You know that'd be a better idea if I didn't think most of these people already wrote Journals whining about Mummy not buying them everything they want." I raised an eyebrow.

"What, did he come up with this while he chowed down on his Cheerios?" Kelly replied.

"Actually, it was while I chowed down on my Cocoa Puffs." Stan whispered loudly. Kelly shrieked and turned to him. I just laughed. I hadn't seen anyone that scared in a long time.

"Don't do that!"

And well journal, a lot less bloody and disgusting as the birth of a child, but still something that not fun to think back on.

Emotastic

Watch for CH 3. Preview:

I walked into the house to find my brother doing a headstand while my mum sat on the couch watching a Spanish soap opera and crying over Ricardo's wife leaving him.

I'm so adopted.