I rolled over and looked at the clock.
Great. I wont be getting back to sleep then. I looked over at Michael who still had an arm draped around my waist. I decided to let him sleep. I carefully got out of his grip and replaced myself with a pillow. He stirred a little bit before drifting back to sleep. I smiled to myself. I leaned down and kissed his cheek before i made my way out of the fort.
What to do... what to do?
I went all the way upstairs to my room.
I had started a journal when i first moved to Australia. I would document every time i cut, how many, how bad, i would also write down what brought me down to feel like i had to do that.
I grabbed the thick leather journal and my black pen and made my way downstairs to the kitchen. I set the journal on the counter and started to make a pot of coffee. Finally after 7 minutes the coffee pot was filled. I opened the cupboard above the coffee maker and grabbed my favourite cow mug. It had a cow print on it but the bottom was pink and the cup stood on utters.
I filled my cup and added a small spoonful of sugar and began to stir. I reached over for the fridge for the cream and poured a little bit of cream in as well. Should i have a flavour in it? Oh, definitely. I went into the large pantry and observed my flavour shots. (The ones you see at like starbucks.) i decided on caramel with vanilla and added a pump of each into my coffee before stirring again.
I made my way back downstairs carefully balancing my journal and pen with my coffee. I made my way successfully down the stairs and into our little fort. I plopped myself down on the couch behind Michael. Michael sleeping is the cutest thing i have ever seen, his mouth is parted open and he lets out soft snores, he is still clutching the pillow like his life depended on it. I stopped watching him because it was really creepy of me. I took a long sip of my delicious coffee before setting it down beside me. I flipped my journal open to the next available page and grabbed my pen. I began to write all of my thoughts
*after writing about Michael's stay at her house.*
I realize that if i hadn't met these boys after the accident i might not have still been here. I also realize that if my parents hadn't of died then i wouldn't be in Australia. My final realization being that if my parents hadn't died they would still be here. I feel so selfish, i have a life, i have plenty of water and food... I have a home, i have an education, i have friends. But sometimes i feel like why can't i just die? Why can't i just be happy? Why can't i stop the urge of having to cut myself... and cut deeper and deeper? I want to stop the anxiety and the self harm and the depression. But honestly where do i start? These are all things i don't have control over. I need help. I need medical help. I need love and support. I need my parents back.