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    March 25

    I glanced across the room, making sure no one was around. Finding no one in sight, I reached up to the cabinet, and drew out the German gun.

    And, I surprised myself as I pointed it towards my head, and nervously pulled the trigger...

    The bang of the gun woke me up from my painful nightmare. My head throbbed with pain, and I fell to the floor in a clump.

    "Is everything all right, Mary?" I heard the melancholy voice of my mom call from downstairs.

    "Ye--" Then I thought for a second. There was school today. I most certainly didn't want to go to school. "Well, I do have a...uh...very bad stomach ache." I started walking downstairs, stumbling down, trying to convince my mom I was sick.

    "I don't feel so good," I said pitifully, looking through a cabinet and grabbing a couple of sauces. "In fact, I think--I..." I suddenly dashed to the bathroom with my sauces in hand, including tomato sauce, soy sauce, apple sauce, etc.

    I, of course, wasn't feeling sick, so I took a trash can, filled it with a little water, and started pouring bits of each sauce into it.

    How revolting. But you gotta do what you gotta do.

    "Bleeeeeeeeeeeh! Uhhhhhhh!" I acted, trying to mimic a barfing sound.

    "Good heavens, Mary!" my mother shouted as I came out, my chin drooling with bits of sauce, and my trash can with "throw up" in it. (I had actually, after putting the sauce in there, put the bottles of sauce in there. So much for trying to fool my mom.) I had wiped my head with a warm washcloth, so as she touched my forehead she said,

    "You're burning. You can't go to school. Go upstairs and rest." I nodded agreeingly, and slowly walked upstairs, my trash can in my hands.


    And so, for the next two days, I sat on my bed, looking aimlessly at the wall. I had finished the final draft for the science project, and I took it to school on Friday. And as I saw Tom stand up, I didn't want to know what he'd reprimand me on, so I quickly grabbed my mom and got out of the class.

    My mom told me to wait at home as she went to K-Mart. (Which, translated, means "I gotta go get some more beer, wait here" ) She left me at home, alone.

    I sighed, and sat down at the kitchen table. I started to actually hate myself. I masked my true identity at school, fooling everyone that I was a happy, good little church girl, which was far from the truth.

    The image of the German old gun suddenly flashed in my mind once again. I buried my head in my arms, deep in thought. What was going on? Why'd I keep thinking of that gun? I looked up at the cabinet where the gun was "hidden". Suddenly, the memory of my dream last night panned back into my mind.

    I had...shot myself. Killed myself. Was that the reason I took so much interest in this gun?

    I started to think about the dream. What was it trying to tell me? I walked over to the cabinet and pulled out the gun. Looking at it, it gave me the feeling of Deja Vu as I kept thinking back at the dream. My head whirled in a tornado of thoughts.

    The gun. The dream. The shredding of papers. The anger of Tom. The divorce of my parents. The drunkness of my mom. For what reason was I still alive? What did I have to look forward to? Was I going to continue to live a lie?

    Or should I even live at all? I darted upstairs, grabbed this diary, and started writing this.

    And right now I'm drawing up the gun to my forehead with my left hand, and finishing this up with my right. Tom, if you ever read this, let me tell you. I've...always had feelings for you.

    And that wasn't a joke. For one reason or another, I really liked you.

    Good bye, Tom. I suppose it's about time I meet my Maker. I'm not sure if anyone at school will forgive me, but death's door awaits.