Apparently I'm Crazy

Well it all started with a story. I wrote it to gain experience and broaden my writing portfolio. This story wound up with a rating of XGC because of language and some very graphic portions in which I describe (in first person) the actions of a killer. Its name was "The Beautiful Dead" .


At first everything was fine. I had got good reviews on this site, and my friends liked it (…well they were shocked at first but found it creative and descriptive), and then all hell broke loose. One of the six people I lent it to, with only two printed copies of the story so I could keep up with it, turned me in. I was sitting in my third block class and my teachers phone rings and I was told to go to guidance. Well, let me tell you, I had no idea what was going on. My mother is a teacher, and I knew better than to get in trouble in school. I am also an A-B student so I didn’t think it could be my grades. At last I decided that it must be my schedule for the next year. I was trying to cram in three AP classes into my schedule. When I got to guidance my counselor led me up to the psychologist’s office. I was now getting worried because I still had no idea what was going on. He introduced himself as Mr. M. He then proceeded for about ten minutes to tell me why I wasn’t there. I finally asked him why he had pulled me out of class if I had done nothing wrong.


About that time his phone rang and he informed me that he had called my mom. You can only imagine the thoughts that were running through my head at this moment. I was thinking of everything that I had said in the past few days and everything that I had done. Now like I said, my mom is a teacher. However, instead of following protocol and going through her school’s office he went through my files and called her directly. She had to leave her classroom and her principal had to come with her because they couldn’t get a substitute. Mr. M told me that he had searched though my files and found that I was a good student with no prior offenses (I swear that is the word that he used). When my mom walked in he repeated the whole spiel and finally told me why I was there. He said that he had been given a story that had some disturbing content. He asked me if I had recognized the story and said that he had read it and was appalled. With that said he also told us that he had never read a Stephen King or Dean Koontz novel and that it could just be that he was to pristine. That word bothered me because it was as if he was defining me by my work. Yes, there are bits of me in everything I do, but when I write I tell the characters story regardless of where it takes me. Mr. M was not a writer and no matter what I said he refused to listen to what I had to say about it. I now knew why people hate the school psychologist. He was telling me that I was wrong without any knowledge of the process or any of my other work.


Halfway through our hour and a half meeting (yes and hour and a half…and I missed my lunch because of him) he also told my mom and I that he had talked with my counselor and one of my teachers. Luckily for me, my mom had my back. She is an avid reader and knows what most of my work is like. Regardless of what we said he still thought that I might have some issues. Later, when we were talking at home we both confessed to wondering when he was going to pull out the referral slips and send me to a “real” psychologist.


I was cringing inside as we talked. Not only had he blatantly trashed a story that I was proud of, one of my friends had turned me over to him without a word to me about it. I think that that was what hurt me the most. The fact that even after warnings (I told people what was in the story because it was graphic) someone had the audacity to do that. So I left the meeting for all I know on a troubled teen list and a two face in my midst. All of this happened the day before our spring break was about to start. At the end of the meeting he asked if I would like a pass home because this had been such an emotional experience. Well I had a chemistry test to take and he looked disappointed when I said that I was going to stay at school. So apparently I am crazy and going to kill people. Until now, I never really understood what it felt like to be insulted from a third party that had no prior knowledge of me and had no idea what type of person I was. Oh well, I guess there are worse things than being insane. Being a school psychologist is one of them.