Fuck therapy

The cops are trying to send me to some sort of grief counsellour-psychiatrist fucker. Like HELL.

Psychiatry is bullshit. I saw enough of them as a kid, and they never helped me one iota. Either I'm supposed to talk about my problems until they go away, or start popping pills? No, thank you.

Problems don't go away by talking. At least, not by talking to doctors. When I want my problems dealt with, I go to the police and they put my problems away for life. That's the only medicine my mind needs.

Hopefully Carlito will get stuck in prison too. No one can tell whose blood he had on him, but his sister's gone missing. I'm convinced he killed her.

ANIMA