I don’t know how to describe the feeling when Reed kissed me. It was like a sunrise. It starts out with beauty... and lowers down into the midnight sky with all of the beautiful stars. Those beautiful stars were all of the things that I couldn’t see when I was extremely depressed, not that I am not depressed anymore. The stars were all the good things in life. The sunrise was the beauty and daze that came along with the kiss. I just can’t believe it finally happened. Then Reed got up when he found out his dad proposed to someone. His IV fell out of his arm, because I guess it wasn’t totally stuck in there yet, and he fainted. Blood went everywhere on the floor. Now I’m totally depressed. I know within those couple minutes of me telling him, he hated me. I miss that sensation I got with holding his hand, and leaning in to touch his lips with mine. It’s like a drug. It’s tempting... but you don’t want to get in trouble if somebody finds out, and then some day you end up doing it anyway because someone tricked you into doing it. Not that Reed tricked me into anything. I think our lips both tricked each others, but by accident.
I feel like I’m breaking apart slowly with just one “small” thing. Reed passing out wasn’t “Little”, as some people call it. What was little was that he now hates me. It’s like that poem I wrote about feeling like a flower. Now I feel like a tree. I have grown, but I need the correct sunlight in the correct position to give me the vitamin D need. I need to be in the correct soil, not in a desert. One small bug can start eating me up, and laying more eggs for more bugs to feed on me. I need a good way to get water. A source. Right now, I have no one to talk to. I don’t want my parents to know what I have done, because I know that I would be in extreme trouble. Besides, they would make things worse like always. My brother wouldn’t help, because I know he hates me, would tell, and would also make things worse. I don’t feel comfortable talking to men, unless they have a crush on me and have gone through the same thing. I know why, because they wouldn’t understand. No One would if they haven’t felt like killing themselves, and I mean, really killing themselves. I don’t need that stupid puppy in my house that reminds me of all of the times I got in trouble with my parents for some reason. I don’t need a doctor to tell me I’m crazy, and that it’s all going to be alright, because IT’S NOT! Only I get to decide whether or not I’m feeling OK. I just.. right now, want to curl up in a ball and die. I know someday I will die anyway. I know that if I leave, if I escape... it will all be better for everyone else on Earth.
All the pain, worry, and tiredness would be gone.
All the long, lonely nights would disappear.
I wouldn’t have to worry about feeling unloved.
I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone hating me either.
I’d be relieved, with... just...four... pills.
Tonight I saw Reed, in the hospital, because he tried to kill himself. Did he do it because of me? He probably did. Did he want to kiss me? Or did I force him into it? I found out my brother was friends with him, which is probably one of the reasons he hates me. My mother and I needed to eat when we arrived , the second time we went to the hospital. I didn’t want to eat. I wanted to look beautiful for Reed, but I was so depressed and decided to have a binge day. Later tomorrow night or morning I would get rid of everything I ate. I simply just have to stick my toothbrush down my throat. It works almost every time. I felt even more depressed when I looked at all of the carbs and calories I have consumed. I wanted to work out on the treadmill down stairs, but it’s just too much work now. I feel weak, and like I’m going to faint all of the time.
I keep wondering when I’m going to die. Am I going to die tomorrow? Will it be next year? I REALLY wanted to die. All my friends, even my closest friend have ditched me. They are all mad at me because I say the things that come to my mind, and accidentally hu8rt their feelings. I want to say sorry all the time, but I think about how I’ll die soon anyway. I honestly have no idea what to do, and where to go from here. I have this empty gap in my heart, that will only be satisfied with someone elses understanding. That hole is where Reed should be. But I don’t know if hes’ there anymore. My life is falling apart. I mean.. it’s obvious... right? I can’t believe how oblivious everyone is at school and at home. Or do they just not care about me.
They are caught up in their own lives, and wanting me to stay out of it. I decided I needed to talk to somebody, but not verbally... online. I started chatting on this secret instagram called pro ana. Noone but you could enter the site. You had to actually take a picture of yourself proving you were a pro- anorexic. It felt amazing when they said I was in. I talked to everyone about wanting to kill myself. A lot of them told me I was beautiful, and told me I shouldn’t. My response was... “Tell me why.” Everyone’s replies were that it might not be good in life right now, but it would soon get better by the day.. if you ,make it better. I told them all I have tried all of my life, and no one responded for an hour.
I got really mad within that hour, and tried to do other things like cutting to keep myself from the pills I hid in the bathroom cabinet inside my contacts cases. I wanted to listen to these pro-ana’s because they looked amazing, happy, and loved. They seemed like they knew what they were doing. I just didn’t know if I was doing things correctly. I didn’t know if there was someone in the world that knew all of the answers in life. I don’t need an extol to worship, I need someone wise to follow. I need a role model could both be there for me, and I be there for him/her. I need someone that at times can build me up, because she/he’s astonished by what I do. But also that I could build that someone up as well. Not one person came to mind. My day had been ruined by that one stupid thought. Most of my days are ruined by one stupid thought. I just can’t control my emotions anymore. I have tried so hard. It’s like that one stupid thing manipulated me into having a horrible day. If I didn’t have a bad day, then I wouldn’t be satisfied for some reason. I just can’t let something go. If I let it go I would get worried, and probably in a lot of big trouble. I hate getting in trouble. Teachers, parents, other students, and even my siblings scare me. I have no clue how to stop that. I think it all started when I wanted to be popular in the sixth grade, and so I decided to do all of my school work and get straight A pluses, which I never got. I developed test anxiety, and became shy. I then just never wanted to talk to anyone, because I was constantly scared of getting in trouble, like I am now. I’m such a failure.
None understands why I’m scared to ask a teacher if I can go to the bathroom because they do worse like graffiti and are fearless. I wish I could have that same courage they do. I just don’t have the guts to do anything.
Right now I’m just sitting on my bed, thinking about all of the bad things that built up in my head. I know all of the kids at school have been gossiping about me. I came into the classroom with streaks down my face. They definitely know what’s going on, if they know who Reed is. No one wants to actually hang out with me. They just want others to feel pity for them. It’s their way of getting popularity. Everyone uses me. Why do they use me, and leave me on the side of the road because I’m a nobody? Because I should die, and that’s just the fact. My parents have no clue what I feel inside, no one does. Reed used to know, but now he probably thinks I’m thinking of only myself. It’s sad that I have no one to talk to or spread my feelings to, so I just read it all to myself when I write. Life’s sad. It’s pointless. I’m a waste of space in other people’s lives. I’m just another one of those outcasts at a fair who no one notices or cares about. It’s like my body isn’t in the world, but my soul is.
I can really easily convince myself I’m not in this world anymore. All I have to think about is how others see me. If I wasn’t myself, and someone else I would see how much of a failure that person is, and try to avoid her; but only if I haven’t gone through any of this.
My arms and legs don’t sting anymore. I hate it. I long for that disappearing feeling it gives me when I cut. I have tried to stop, but it actually helps me. Not that isolating yourself is a good thing, but it helps me calm down for some odd reason... just not inside. Nothing could help me calm down inside but a guy who tells me he will be there for me. I don’t want my stupid dad though, because every time I try talking to him... he makes me want to kill myself drastically a bigger amount than I have ever wanted to. EVERY TIME. I don’t need a lecture on how bad I’m doing in life, and how I need to be more thankful. My dad tells me that once I start showing him maturity, he will treat me with more respect. I think “YOU CAN’T MANIPULATE ME!!” I just want to kill myself everytime he or my step mother manipulates me. Every time they ask me if I am ok I say yes, because I want to be left alone.. and I want my rights.
I can’t wait until I move out.It might seem kind of scary now, but when I get there.. it will be a heck of a lot better.. if I live through the next three years. It wouldn’t surprise me if I took the pills I hid, or hung myself by tomorrow. I just want to hang onto the lfe I have left, and try to get just one more kiss. Things will be better if I have a guy there for me. That’s the thing my parents don’t understand. I don’t cry months over one guy, I move on to the next guy once that guy has recovered from the breakup. I don’t know how Reed honestly feels right now, which is why I don’t want to kill myself. I know I have someone to live for. My parents are paranoid about me breaking up with a guy and being devastated. I have secretly dates guys in the past, and broke up with them... and I got over it, unlike my older sister who gets the freedom. I guess one thing my parents are paranoid about, is if we go...( too far). As people call it. If we did anything, it would only be one, and I mean only one kiss, and a little holding hands. They don’t like those ideas because their stupid christians who pray to the sky that manipulates them into trying to be perfect in it’s image. I still don’t understand why they don’t think that its’ odd that all of this skies rules are kind of strict.
If I was a God I would want everyone to enjoy life and have fun, without hurting others. I wouldn’t punish them for saying a small white lie that gets them out of trouble. Sure you learn things from telling the truth... I guess, but if it were for my life.. I would rather lie and live. I wouldn’t want to be one of those crazy martys. If ISIS came to destroy all of the christians and people who are not following the ISIS religion, I would join ISIS for my life. Who wants to sit in their coffin, while people give eulogies about HOW you died, instead of what’s really inside? You don’t want people at your funeral talking about that bravery you had ONE TIME. You would want them saying things like your personality and who your true love was, and how they felt.
I guess having a God to be “there” for you is more valuable than your life; for christians. I might actually be a christian, if any of my prayers were answered. I would of lived with my REAL mom.. who moved away after the divorce when I was in just Elementary school. Who can live without their mom, and have to live a totally different lifestyle when their dad decides to remarry a bitch? I absolutely hate my life because they won’t let me move down. Sure every kid complains about the rules in their house at some point in their life.. but having to starve until your parents stomachs are hungry, instead of your is stressful. I just don’t eat anymore because of this reason. I’m more used to hunger. And I lose weight along with it. They give us (me and my siblings) like nothing to eat, and nothing that actually tastes good. I only eat at dinner time now, and work it all off after dinner. They say that I manipulate them. When really they manipulate me. I can’t control my emotions! They say my depression is just a way to manipulate and harass them for all of their stupid friends could see.
One day they told me that because I told my spanish teacher I had to go, because I didn’t want to have to pay any more money for being late... I was making them sound like bad parents, when really they made that stupid rule. They don’t do that anymore because I asked my dad, “Well if our step mom is late, then does she pay us?” They still manipulate us, but in a better way.. that makes our lives less stressful. We can only go online, or watch anything if we exercise for an hour, unless we(my siblings and I) aren’t late the entire week... going out to the car after school. This is still manipulation!!!! If I ever have kids, I will NEVER manipulate them, and technically force them to hate themselves. The stress manipulation gives to kids, turns into depression, and then suicide... why can’t MY parents see this. I would rather sit in a homeless shelter, or in my casket, then have to be manipulated and starved/ fed disgusting food everyday. I mean, It’s my stomach! Why can’t I choose what I put in it, like every other kid in the world does? I think this is the longest journal entry that I have ever written. Speaking of journal entries, I can’t write in a full sized journal any more, because I know my parents will read it. So I carry in my back pocket a mini journal to write in.
The fact that I have to hide food, when I WANT to eat GOOD food, hide a journal, and hide money to buy the food... shows that my parents mentally abuse me. They always tell me how much of a failure in life I am. They are right.. I’m a failure in life. But the fact that I got my idea from my parents, means that I should be put in a better, stable, home. I’m just too scared the people at the children protection program. They would probably check my arms and legs for any self-harm, and send me to a hospital where they would put me under suicide watch, and watch me go pee. The other fact that I keep most of my life from my parents, for my own protection, even when it’s at stake.. means the same things. What kind of god would put ME in a home like this? Why can’t I just die already?
Someone on PRO ANA, texted me back.
They replied “Just wait... it will all get better soon.” I keep wondering, How would she know that? No one knows if my life would actually get better. Would if someone murdered me tomorrow? What would happen if I jumped off the roof of my house right now? I tried all night trying to convince myself that things WILL get better. Things might not be right now.. but maybe one day... I will feel happy again. It might be when I move out and am eighteen. I might, probably not, but still might move down with my mom before then. I wouldn’t have any problems if they just let me move down. And by “they” I mean my “parents”.
I got ready for school the next morning, having Reed on my mind the entire time. I seem to need everything be perfect for some odd reason. I need my room spick and span, my makeup, hair, outfits make me look good, I need my body to be as thin as a supermodel, and all of the stuff I do in school has to be one hundreds. I have no idea why all of this is happening. Sometimes I can’t even think straight enough to do any of this. Today I just slipped on some black leggings under my black and white striped maxi skirt, and a baggy baby blue sweatshirt that said Bar Harbor on it. I took out my braids from the morning before, and pinned up my bags after I braided them. My makeup was just black liquid eyeliner, foundation, and some lipgloss. When I peered my self in the mirror, I started to tear up. No matter what I do I will never look beautiful. I know everyone tells me I am.. but they just say that because they have to or else someone would call them an A- Hole behind there back. I grabbed my school bags, slipped on some orange ankle socks, and started my way down stairs.
I didn’t want to look anyone in the eye, because I would start to tear up even more.. and maybe even cry. I pulled my IPOD out of it’s charger from the family MAC computer, and plugged in the bottom some headphones. I looked through my playlists, and chose Ronan by Taylor Swift. It made me tear up even more than I already was... because it reminded me of Reed. It also reminded me of my life. The lyrics (Come on baby with me were gonna fly away) bounced in my head like a heartbeat. The heartbeat was speeding up every time this part of the song came up. And then I heard my dad yelling at me for another stupid thing I did wrong. All I thought at this point is... I wish I were dead already. My stomach churned, into a burning sensation.. just like the feeling in my throat from throwing up so much. It might of just of been butterflies... from thinking of Reed... but it wasn’t. It was missing Reed, feeling like he was GONE. I couldn’t stop wondering and thinking of him on the car ride to school. Tears fluttered down my face... giving me a stinging sensation that made me cry even more. I kept thinking that no one saw me.
That I was opaque. When I arrived at school, I cried even more when I didn’t see Reed. A middle schooler asked if I was ok... so I just ran away into the bathroom. When the bell rang, I went into my first class, writing, took a test, and then started typing on one of the school computers my own story. It was a project everyone had to do for the month of November. We had to write a novel... so I started writing about my life. None knew it wasn’t fiction... so I kept writing. I could hear my old friends talking behind my back about how much of a cry baby I was. I felt like I could just die, right there in my seat... and noone would notice or have a single care. I didn’t know what else to do.. but write about that exact moment. When I walked out of the school computer lab after the bell rang I shifted through the pile of kids, struggling to get to my Algebra class. The pushing and shoving made the tears run down even faster... making me feel hysterically unstoppable. And not in the funny type of way.
My heart pounded just like my mind and music I had playing a couple of hours ago, but faster, and out of line. It went bump, bump, bump, b-,bump, skipping beats. I had no clue if I was having a seizure... which I wasn’t, but I didn’t allow myself to tell anyone, hoping I would die at some point today. I noticed I was colder than usual. I had that kind of cool feeling you get when you have a fever. My fingers started to turn a purplish blue tone at the tips, horrifying me. All I remember then was falling and hitting my head on the school floor.
When I woke up I was in a hospital. My mother, father, and brother were sitting on the right side of me. My mom was in tears. Matthew had a blank look on his face... and my dad looked angry. I closed my eyes quickly, hoping they didn’t notice I was awake, which didn’t work. I felt something weird pinching endlessly at my arm. I used my other hand to feel a tube running through it. I guess my brother noticed, because he whimpered, “ She’s awake! I opened my eyes, and was in terror. I had no idea what they were going to say, but the only person who said something was my brother. He said, “How are you feeling?” The only words I wanted to hear. He must of been here for hours, thinking of the perfect words to say.
I replied, “Fine.” Like the usual person does, and asked “How about you?” He looked at me with a confused appearance on his face.
“Ummm.” And then said in the quickest way possible “ I’m fine.” Then it went silent. My entire family was staring at me like I was going to say something really important. I felt my arm one more time, and felt stitches. Now I know that they know... that I have cut, burned, and stopped eating. What was I supposed to do now? All that’s left is the pills hidden in the bathroom cabinet. I felt very embarrassed, and had no idea what to say. It seemed that they had no ideas on what to say either.