Choose a character sitting in the circle at a group Therapy session, the story of another character already posted, the story of the man running the session, maybe someone acts out? I don’t know, but I think you do Lots of possibilities here Guidelines: State your character’s name as the title along with the reason they are in this group therapy session. I'll start out: Ann Marie Jaque: Addict; Self-injury I wasn’t a freak. I didn’t want to be here, I was fine. I just kept telling myself that, it wasn’t denial, I knew what denial was, I knew what it was oh so well. And that wasn’t my problem. That was the least of my problems. What was my problem? My mom got angry at all the hair dye, my mom got angry at all the eye makeup, and my mom got angry of my coming home late at nights. It wasn’t always this way, it used to just be the hair dye and eye makeup. Not the drugs, not the cutting, not the oh so many stereotypical things a punky teenage girl can get herself into. This was my problem. The blue plastic chairs like the ones from English class. The ugly carpet the color of someone’s puke after eating fast food and drinking too much beer. The other people sitting around, shaking from with-drawls, wrapped up in their own tragedies. The problem was there wasn’t a soul here that would ever understand me, no matter what they said. ‘I haven’t been out of high school for that long.’ Haven’t you? Because it looks to me you have. None of them could ever understand what made me different. For years, it was people like me who I hated most in probably the whole world. Why would anyone play into those stereotypes? Are they stupid? Why should someone just break that easily, there were always better answers. There was always a good side. There was always something to look forward to. But that was so long ago, before everything just…shattered. When he looked at me, I felt my hands turn cold. Each beat of my heart sounded too loud, feeling like it shook me, like I had been punched right in the chest. His eyes were brown. His skin tan. His hair an ugly shade between wheat and grey. “And what’s your name?” I heard him say, trying to speak too clearly and spitting out each syllable like I was a kindergartner. He was talking to me.