“I’m feel like I’m going to die any day,” I admitted to the doctor. “It stresses me out. The only way I can survive is by busying my mind. What if someone thinks I’m gay because my ex-girlfriend realized she was man. What if I have to work five jobs in my life just to make it, not because I enjoy them. What if I fail Ben? What if I sext my mother, again, by accident? What if other kids sexted their mothers frequently? I feel like I don’t have enough time any more because I have to check Facebook like a drug addict. I don’t have enough time. I would get a gym membership, but Facebook takes up so much of my time. I go to Chili’s when I want to fit in. Lego my ego. I don’t know who I am. I feel like I’m going to die any day.” “Calm down”, said the doctor. “Who told you that you needed Adderall? You’re suffering from anxiety and depression, not A.D.D.? “You,” I told the doctor. “Well he was wrong,” said the doctor. I look confused. He continued as if “You” meant third person, “I think he d...