“Have you ever thought about hurting yourself or others?” a lady with a clipboard in an office with beige walls asked me. I swear the room was probably created to torture people; it gave me the worst vibes possible. I almost wanted to run out of the room at that moment. I’d run into the nearest woods and live there Unabomber style; the morons would never find me. I’d survive on tree roots, berries, and squirrels. Every once in a while, I’d check out how society was doing, but I’d always return before they got suspicious of me. I’m a bloody genius.
Is this a standard question…?
“I’ve thought about hurting myself but not others,” I said, fidgeting with my right leg. I’ve never been diagnosed, but I firmly believe that I have restless legs syndrome. I’ve had moments at the dinner table wh
