In-terror-gation

I had my ego checked for defects by the school psychiatrist -- no, wait. That's probably not a good word to describe the doc that checked my state of mind. It makes here look more like a psychiatrist.

Anyway, the school psychologist checked the status of my head. And this is what I got out from the doc:

• health: you're still healthy, lest you get cranky and your immune system fails you. go see the medical doc. oh yeah, better watch out: you're getting loony.
• studies: omigod! you're flunking physics! and you're starting to do the same in other fields! get a tutor, for crying out loud.
• family: nice record. or probably you're hiding something from me. come, spit it out. don't make me use the lie detector on you!
• social relationship: what the hell are you?! are you evenhuman?! get a life. (translation: you're too alone, and you'll probably not live till 18. beter haul off people you could push off a bridge.)

Well, the test kind of gives me the creeps, as if I were in some fierce interrogation session. You know: the one in which the suspected person is strapped down in a chair in a room only illuminated by a swining headlight, then strangers force you to spit out the answers they would only want to hear, and if you don't they would slap you in the face, kick you in the groin, or douse you with gasoline and set you on fire (ow. that's not fierce, it's vicious.) . my fears were unfounded, bu then I wasn't left unharmed... mentally: after the "interrogation", my head is due for explosion.