Free Not As Crazy As I Seem by George Harrar

needs friends. You know, studies show that people with friends are healthier and happier, and they..."
    Here we go with another friends lecture. My father says it's a medical fact that people with lots of friends live longer. I can see the bumper sticker: Friends Help Friends Live Longer. The thing is, I don't care about living longer. Maybe when I'm ready to die I'll care about it, but not now.
    "Friends can be very helpful to you, Devon."
    "Okay, I've made a friend already. There's this girl I eat lunch with sometimes. I think she likes me."
    "That's good. Is there a chance you might ask her out on a date?"
    A date? Is he crazy? I don't think Tanya's going to jump from Alonzo to me. "We're not that kind of friends."
    "What about boy friends?"
    "Boyfriends?"
    "Friends who are boys."
    "Oh, yeah, I got a kid who's a friend, too. He asked me to do something with him last week during school." What he asked me to do was smoke weed with him, but I'm not going to mention that.
    "That's nice. What's he like?"
    "I don't know what he likes, the usual stuff, I guess."
    "I mean, what
is
he like."
    "Oh, he's got purple hair and he wears army boots and he's kind of skinny like me and he calls everybody a Nazi."
    "Sounds like a lively boy. How did you meet him?"
    "He just started talking to me one day after art. He
probably doesn't have any friends—that's why he came up to me."
    "Maybe he has other friends and he just wanted to get to know you in particular."
    "Actually, he's probably a loser like me. One loser can always tell another."
    Dr. W. stares at me for a while and then stands up and goes to his file cabinet. He pulls out a notebook covered in plastic.
    "I like to be clear with my clients as to what my goal is in these sessions, and with you, Devon, it's figuring out what makes you anxious, what compels you to do things ... eat a certain number of M&Ms, for instance. There could be a chemical imbalance in your brain, or perhaps you've developed a way of interacting with the world based on some experiences early in your childhood. Another possibility is that you have diminished self-esteem—you're not sure how you fit into social situations with people, and so you're always trying little tricks to make sure things go right for you. For now that's the possibility I want to address." He opens the book, and I see it isn't a real book at all. "These are motivational tapes. I'd like you to put them on your tape player as you walk to school, or listen to them in your bedroom. I think you'll find them pretty powerful."
    I take the book and run my hand across the smooth, cold plastic. Sure, I can use motivation, but to do what?

    The tapes
are
pretty powerful, just like Dr. W. said. What I especially like is that you don't really have to think at all. You just listen.
    The first thing I'm learning is that I can do anything I want in life, if I just have enough self-esteem. The man on the tape says, "You, too, will be able to produce miracles." I guess he means getting rid of my tendencies—that would be a miracle.
    I've already listened to cassette one, and it's made me hungry. So I go downstairs and help myself to a bowl of Jell-O and a blueberry muffin and a Kudos bar and four Hershey's Kisses and a big glass of Newman's Own Old-Fashioned Roadside Virgin Lemonade, which Mom buys just for me, so I'm allowed to drink it out of the carton. It tastes better than regular lemonade, and I like the name.
    It's surprising how simple this self-esteem really is. I always thought you got it from making A's in class, being the star at sports, and other stuff like that. But the tape says that self-esteem isn't about achieving anything—it's what you think about yourself not achieving anything.
    All you need to do is think good thoughts about yourself. The way you do that is by getting rid of all the bad thoughts other people are putting into your head about you. The tapes even give you magic words to do this—"Cancel Cancel." When