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Thursday, November 15, 2007
Slut. Whore.
Just names.
Do they really know me? Do any of them really know me?
Friday, November 16, 2007
Here’s a little something I’ve learned about school:
It never. ********. Ends.
You get up in the morning... for school. Eat, bathe, dress... for school. Leave... for school. Come home, and you know what I think about?
Becky started a nasty rumor today. My best friend is a traitor and a b***h.
Does Jason still like me?
Why do those nasty girls keep staring at me?
Why am I failing Calculus?
Why won't it stop?
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Nothing of any interest has happened yet today. I’m bleeding, I’m sore, my a** is on fire.
Damn that Mrs. J.*
Damn her to hell.
*Mrs. J is a reference to Jade's PE teacher.
Later
My sister had a birthday party to go to tonight. Mom went too. Dad, of course, was at the game. I was left on my own, with my sore a** and my thoughts. It gets dark so quickly these days, and it can be very lonely. When I stepped out of the bath, the house was exactly as I had left it—all the lights were on, but no one was home.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Today we went to the mall. Christmas shopping. And I’ve found my gift this year—it’s a beautiful blue and gold Venetian glass heart strung on gold chains. I suppose maybe the reason I want a glass one… is so I can feel like I have a heart.
Goodnight. I’m off to be polite and distant somewhere else.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Foolish me, to think that life could be so simple, so okay. When will I learn?
I don’t know what to do now that I’m not the ugly smart girl anymore. I can’t live in a world where I’m just ugly and stupid. It doesn’t seem fair.
In the words of Virginia, “I’ll either be okay or I’ll drink a bottle of bleach.” I’m not sure yet if I’m joking or not.
I have nothing for you tonight but broken hopes and falling dreams.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Thanksgiving is over.
Let’s just put it this way: “If Champagne’s for celebrating, I’ll have a Martini.” I still feel like crap.
I think I need to talk to someone. The only problem is, I think I’m past the point where someone else can fix me. I’m not even sure if I can fix me.
Tonight, a question: Why does God make people fallible and then condemn them when they fail?
If I knew the answer, I might still be Christian.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Today, I’m treating myself as if I were sick—sleeping ‘till noon, wearing my pajamas all day, skipping school. I’m afraid of days like this. They give me too much time to think. I’m still not stable-- Lately I’ve been contemplating suicide, the relative benefits of not being alive. This is how it starts, isn’t it? Boohoo, I’m such a poor girl, no one would miss me, it would better this way?
I know exactly where to put the cuts on my wrists. I know not to take a handful of pills at the same time, but to wait, take one, maybe have some wine, take another. It would be the easy way to die.
But if there’s one thing life has taught me, nothing is ever easy.
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