November 7, 2009

I just came back from Suessical, which was good, but Cyrus
totally blew me off. And the only reason I went to two of the
shows on the same day was for him. So, venting my feelings, I
decided to write letters. Here is the first:
Dear Cyrus,
You are a mother-fucking asshole really mean. Dude, I’ve
had a crush on you since sixth grade; I’m slightly obses
Actually, I wrote the letters down in the blue composition
notebook. Read them there, because copying them doesn’t feel
right. I already felt this once, no need to feel it again.
So, Adieu for now.

December 19, 2009

Yesterday, on the 18, I had my piano recital. I was looking
forward to it, not only because of performing, because I nailed
my piece, but because my crush was going to be there. In fact,
hoping to catch him, I went to two extra recitals.
He never showed.
I am so hurt, because firstly, he specifically asked to be put
in a different recital, which wreaked havoc on my ego, but he also
never bothered to show up. Which I think is mean.
Additionally,
♦ I’m still afraid of the imminent divorce between
parents
♦ I wish I could lose tummy fat
♦ I want Cyrus to notice me
♦ I am worried that my Bisexual proclamation/coming
out of the closet is the reason Maddie won’t talk to me
♦ I miss all of my friends like crazy even though winter
break just started
♦ I want and don’t want to drop out of orchestra
♦ I need to work on the book
 ♦ I still hate myself with a deep and bitter loathing.
Not quite, but close.
That’s all folks. Must go to bed.
At least I was productive today. I wrapped presents at the
police station for needy families, and I started a journal.
Bye.

December 20, 2009

Hello again.
Nikhil spent the night puking his guts up. Then, in the
morning his friend Tal still got to come over, while Mom and I had
to cancel our movie plans for him. Maybe I’m being selfish, but
that doesn’t seem fair to me. Not that anyone asked me in the
first place.
Everything in the above list qualifies. Additionally, though,
I miss my guys. In fifth grade, not that I would tell anybody this,
my guy friends were my best friends. Eric, Zach, and Cyrus could
always cheer me up, and at times when I am sad, it is that quality
I remember. And now I never get to talk to them or see them.
Guys can be great listeners, if only because they have a different
perspective in life. And now, I still have Casey and Warren and
Gabe and others, but it’s like the Girl Scout song, Make new
friends, but keep the old. The usual.
And I just spent a good thirty minutes trying to draw and all
Daddy could do was criticize my work, when he can’t draw worth
shit either. Not to cuss, but I will vent in this journal, and if that
means cussing, then cuss I will.
I hate life.
Further updates to follow.
I just remembered Erin’s theory in life: Fuck the world.
I totally agree. In the figurative sense.
That would suck literally. Not to mention being physically
impossible.
 New list:
Interesting ways to kill oneself
♦ Overdose on sleeping pills
♦ Gun to the head
♦ Stab with a knife
♦ Cut an artery
♦ Fall asleep in a filling bathtub
♦ Purposefully crash in a car
♦ Overdose on a different drug
♦ Suffocate, but I’m not sure that is possible.
That is all I can think of for now. None of them are that
original.
Adios.

December 21, 2009

So today was a good day. Parents were gone most of the
time, Daddy home for lunch. I was happy, didn’t think any
depressing thoughts. It was a first actually.
Going to watch Alton!!!!
Buh-Bye.

December 22, 2009

Had a really, superbly, shitty, depressing day, despite the
trip to Grand Finale, the Library, and the bagel shop.
Would love to die promptly.
Sadly, I don’t think it will happen.
So…
I’ll be forced to see you later.

December 23, 2009

I was doing all right until
1) I brought up stuff from Daddy that Nikhil and I have
to deal with including
 a. Getting told to go to hell
b. Getting called a fucking tube light
c. Not spending time with a Dad
d. Never getting praised
2) Dad asked Nikhil, the good son, if he would like to go
play some video game, and as an after thought, wanted to know if
I would watch.
Fuck him.
I hate my life.
Suicide is rather appealing,
I’m still pissed at Cyrus, but I miss seeing him.
I hate hormones.
I hate life.

December 24, 2009

1 day to Christmas!!!! OMG!!!!
I’m actually feeling pretty decent, despite an extreme lack
of sleep.
I saw a movie and went Christmas shopping with Mom, got
her a cool hawk statue, and some chocolate, and got Daddy some
jerky, and got Nikhil a Judas Priest CD. I hope they like them.
Hope my state of happiness lasts.
I even wished my friends a mental happy holidays (including
that one guy I’m pissed at {Cyrus}, which was very nice of me, I
feel.)
Love all.
Hope Santa writes back. Merry Christmas! Or Happy
Holidays! Or whatever else!!!


 December 25, 2009
Christmas!! Not a great haul this year, but no tears, and
great food, so all is well in my personal universe (for once),






December 26, 2009
Today I got to eat and ice skate. I’m only feeling occasional
and mild pangs of depression, so today was pretty good. I really
am starting to miss my friends, because break has been on a
while, and I need the human company. I also wish Margie was
having her party- although we don’t actually know whether or not
she is- so I could see some of the people I only see once a year.
Haven’t seen Cyrus in a while, need my fix, but might be
weaning myself.
Yeah, right.
Ah, well, I’m off to continue my exciting and interesting life,
full of adventure and fun.
I wish.
Hasta Luego.

December 27, 2009

It is only 11:30 am, and already I wish I were dead. I have
just received a 20-minute lecture from dear Father on why I am
the amazing screw up that I am. Not in those words, of course,
but with that as the main message. I even have a poem about it-
not the lecture, but the message. It isn’t too bad, actually.

Rearview Mirror
When I look back
On the life I lived
All I can see is the road that
I
Took
Full of potholes of mistakes
The ditches of regrets
The mess of sorrow
The ruins of what could have been
Happiness
And I also see
When I look a little closer
That although some was my fault
I could have steered around that
Pothole
Ditch
Mess
Ruin
I was also fenced in
From the beginning
Unable to take
Any other
Road
When I look back
All I can see
Is something
That should never have started
Something that
If I were to lie on my deathbed
I would be glad was ending
But
Since I have a ways to go
Before the road reaches the dead end
Of
Death
I must continue
On this road
Praying
That I can somehow manage
To
Steer
 Whaddya think?
I almost want to share it with someone. But still, it
captures me in a poem. Those words are pretty much the
way I see this life.
It’s almost a bit sad.
But what can I say? I don’t see anything in me
worth living for, any real purpose on this earth except to
make others unhappy. No purpose, no reason, no
motivation, what do I have to give? Nothing, so I
shouldn’t be here in the first place. All I want is for
someone to tell me that they want me here, because then
I would have a reason to stay, something to tie me down
on this goddamned earth, a reason to persevere. Because
I lack that courage on my own. I lack the bravery to plow
on through a mess until I heal, until I see the half full
glass.
I also lack the sick kind of courage required to just
end it all, slip away. I can’t do that, too afraid of what
waits on the other side.
So I sit here in limbo, wanting change, but unable to
initiate it.
I hate me.
I wish I could curl up in a ball and die.
Or at least learn to appreciate life, which others
claim is precious.
I can’t see precious.
I can’t see anything but the things that show up in
my rearview mirror.
And I hate what I see.
 I hate everything I see, hate it all, wish it were
gone.
If it were gone, I would be too.
And I wouldn’t have had to do it myself.
Wouldn’t have done anything myself.

December 28, 2009

Today I have just come from an intensive workout
session. This was 10 sets (as fast as possible) of:
♦ 50 jumping jacks
♦ 20 Sit ups
♦ 10 knee push-ups
♦ 10 knee raises
♦ 10 Mountain climbers
Lovely. But, hey, it was something to do, and I am
glad I did it.
Yesterday sucked, but things went up from when I
wrote that entry.
And I’m still alive, which … doesn’t really prove
anything, but whatever.
No suicide, right?
So far, I don’t really have that much to say, so I’ll
probably write something else later.

Later
I went ice-skating, and I found that weird inner
peace, that happy zone. It felt so good. I didn’t want to
leave, at all.
 And now, I’m feeling rather rejected by Mom, who
can’t wait to get us to bed.
Story of my life.

December 29, 2009

Today I went to the dentist and found that I have
two cavities, and will need to go back again. Lovely.
I spent the whole day a bit bored, practicing music,
and reading. Kind of a haze in which nothing reached me.
I don’t feel all that great. I just wish that in something
in my life, there was some real joy, because without
sadness, there is no joy, and I’ve got plenty of sadness,
so you’d think I’d have some happiness by now.
I had the weirdest dream last night, where first I
had to…this is embarrassing, but I will be honest in my
journal. Okay, so I went looking for Cyrus, because I had
this awful feeling that something was wrong, and when I
found him, there was a circle, of all my friends,
whispering that I was crazy to see myself with someone
like him, that I would shame him, etc. All in all, not what
my suicidal self really needed to hear. And then, the rest
of my male friends looked at me, and said one by one that
they thought they were the ones I really wanted (like,
you know, lusted after.).
It probably means that I am fantasizing to bring
some, ahem, passion into my life, but really, it just
freaked the shit out of me. Lovely. And it also seemed
like it was a dream meant for my older self…
Sigh.
 I really hope it was just some weird nightmare
brought on by my demon hormones.
On a different train of thought, I really wish that
there were a little more to do in this house. I love to
read and practice music and all, but I need to get outside
a little more. I need the air, you know? But with the
weather and the snow, it isn’t really feasible. Which
stinks, if you ask me. Although no one did.
I am so tired. So, so, so tired.

December 30, 2009

Still feeling strangely exhausted. And, to make
things worse, I’m still having a combination of insomnia
and weird dreams. Like last night, for instance, I –Oh,
additional detail, they all seem to be dreams bought on by
hormones and that kind of thing. So, as I was saying-
writing-whatever-I had this dream that I finally got to
see all of my old friends, boys and girls, and they were
with each other, if you know what I mean. Which might
seem relatively tame to other scenarios, but it made me
feel horrible, like there was something for everybody out
there, but not for me. No, I meant someone for
everyone out there, but nobody wanted me. Which made
me feel like the reason I would grow old alone with my
rabid cats was my numerous flaws. Which sucked. Yeah,
that’s about it.
Also, I am just having this total loser state of mind.
It’s like I don’t really feel like waking up or doing
anything so that I don’t have to face the world. And I
hate it, because I feel like such a loser for wanting to
hide, but inevitably, something happens during the day
that makes me feel like a loser anyway. Rock and a hard
place.
You know what is a shocker? Recently, whenever
people ask about my favorite class in school, I tell them
that it is LA. Which surprised even me, because of Mr.
Shaw (eew, I hate even writing the name) kind of causes
me to dislike the class. Also because I usually would have
said orchestra, because I love my music, or at the very
least, math. But so far, I hate the way Mrs. Lotterhos
teaches orchestra, and math is great, and I love it, but I
don’t feel like it always holds me interest. Whereas, in
LA/Social Studies (whatever), I’m at least paying
attention all the time. And trying new things. And
stepping outside my comfort zone. And learning in new
ways. And just…being…the me… no… trying out different
versions of myself…to find the one I want to be. And
that is something I never thought I would do in a
classroom.
However, the amount of schoolwork we are being
forced to do is starting to really stress me out, whenever
I think about it. And I can’t switch, or anything, because
I feel like I can do it, I just need to…get the hang of it?
Or maybe find an amazing way to manage my time. Or,
better yet, find something to motivate me to do my work
in a timely and efficient manner. Someday, I will.
I so want to just be that essential core part of
someone’s life right now, to have someone who really
needs me –I’m not saying I want to be knocked up so I
get pregnant and have a baby dependent on me- more
that I need someone who isn’t afraid to tell me that they
want me to be alive. Parents don’t count –they have
obligations. I want that person to do it because they
want to, not because they feel they should. Because
there is such a difference between those two things.
The biggest difference. And it matters so much to me.
Ever wondered why people are born? They only ever
die.

December 31, 2009

I actually get to stay up until midnight this year. I
will actually see the New Year in. I really will. Tonight,
we are going to Denver to have dinner and see the
lighting for 2009.
In preparation for that, I had to take a shower.
There was no hot water. The highest shower setting
gave me ice water. It sucked. I hated it. I was pissed
that I had to take a freezing shower.
However, it is over now, so I’ll deal with it.
Once we get back from Denver, we’re gonna watch a
movie, and do whatever it is we have to do to hang out
and stay awake. I don’t think there is the neighborhood
party this year, but that’s all right.
Then, on Saturday I am going to go to Tonya’s and
catch up with the Douglass girls. That should be fun.
I want to write something after midnight, in 2010.
Except it wouldn’t count as tomorrow’s entry. Yeah, I
think I will. See you next year!! (Hee Hee! It actually
counts this time! Unless I write again, of course.)
January 1, 2010
It is the first of a new day, month, year and decade.
Happy New Year!!
I guess there was a party; we just weren’t invited.
They set off fireworks.
It is-well, kind of amazing, actually, when you think
about it. 

Later on January 1, 2010

Here I am again. Today wasn’t too bad. I’m looking
forward to a new year. Fresh start, you know?

January 3, 2010
I just got back from the sleepover at Tonya’s place.
It was so good to see Dhyana, Tonya, and Amber again,
not to mention getting all the gossip about old Douglass
kids and my friends.
Nobody has actually changed very much; maybe we
look a little older, or act more mature, but we are
essentially the same people. That makes me feel like it
will be possible to keep in touch, and stay good friends.
I wish, however, that it were a little easier to keep
track of- or keep in touch with- some of the other
people. Okay, I’ll admit it out loud. I wish I still got to
hang out with Zach, and Eric, and some of the girls, but
unless you are really close in elementary, it just doesn’t
happen. So, I have to pretend I know them through my
friends’ stories.
On the bright side, though, we had a lot of fun, and
got to really catch up, which was so nice. I am glad that
even after three years apart, we are still such good
friends.
I only got to sleep from 5:30 am to 7:15 am, but I
am still operating pretty well.
They never got the chance to do the makeover on
me. HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!!
We are going to try to do this again around spring
break, so we see each other more often. Plus, we will
email, or chat more often to, I hope.
I wish break would go on forever, except that I
want to see my buds again. Especially because some of
them {a.k.a. the guys} didn’t give me an email address.
Which stinks.
I don’t want to go back to the work environment of
school. It can be so stressful, with all the work, the
hours and hours of work, not to mention other demands,
like extra curricular activity. I am gonna die soon, or at
least have a total melt down. Well, that will come later.
I have had a relatively unDepressed few days. I
feel almost cheerful (I was slap happy yesterday, so that
doesn’t really count as true emotion).
I rate myself as moderate on the cheerless to
cheerful scale. I hover in between. Not too shabby.

January 4, 2010
 I am having such a shitty depressed day. I feel…
like… emotionally drained, I guess is the right word, and
anything I try to say seriously gets mocked. My list of
horrors includes:
♦ I was going to see Cyrus today, and he didn’t
show.
♦ I tried to tell my mom I didn’t appreciate the
way she repeated everything I told her to everyone
else. She mocked me.
♦ I got to thinking about how –I don’t know if I
spell this right, so I am sorry- Kolupatti died. And
that got me thinking about
o The way our family can’t handle emotion of
any type. No
 Sadness
 Grief
 Pride
 Happiness
 Anger
 Moodiness
 Irritation
 Anything else you can think of?
o How we don’t bother to make any
connections with people
o How little we see our grandparents
o My guilt at her death
 I should have connected with her
 I should have gotten to know her
  I should have acknowledged our
culture and relationship.
o What I need to do to honor her existence-
since I couldn’t do it while she was alive.
To be continued.

January 5, 2010
Shit. School starts tomorrow.
Don’t wanna go back.

January 7, 2010
Been in school for some time now.
I have had an awful day.
I have PMS, so I blew up at Nikhil for something
stupid, and then Mom and Daddy are being so formal with
each other that it hurts to watch them interact. I keep
thinking about how… Well, it feels like this is killing me
inside, that little piece of me that needs a happy family.
Additionally, school is as stressful as ever, and
National History Day project schedules were messed up,
so now everybody’s behind. Lovely.
Still miss the friends that I need to see, cause I’ve
got no luck with that, dammit.
I wish things were simpler.
Or that I was dead, because that would make things
easier too. And it’s not like anybody would miss me. Al
my friends have other, more important friends that
they’d rather talk to, and my parents have the wonderful,
all perfect, all achieving Nikhil. Lucky them. I obviously
wouldn’t be missed.

January 9, 2010
Surprise, surprise. I wish I were dead. Had a shitty
last two days.
Can’t write more.
Haven’t got the time.
Just feel generally ignored. And inferior to Nikhil.
I actually don’t resent him…Just my treatment,

January 23, 2010

More shit. Haven’t written because things feel just
the same, and I don’t see the point in repeating it.
However, to make things worse, I feel kinda lonely,
because it feels like the family is splitting up more and
more. More parental tension, Dad won’t talk to me right
now (since Wednesday) and I…It just sucks.
Wham. You think you can top that?
Well, today, I also… Eric again (interviewed him for
NHD) and now I miss him more, and my life just royally
sucks in a whole new way. Not refreshing, but new.
Obviously, I win the My Life Sucks More contest.
Suck on that.

February 22, 2010

I realize that it has been awhile.
Things have only gone downhill.
 I miss certain friends who don’t connect with me
anymore. I wish that the family would get better. I have
a lot to say, and I should have done it yesterday, instead
of in the morning before school. I also should start at
the beginning.
So, I haven’t come out to say this yet, but I’m so far
over Mr. Angel now. Which is great, ‘cause he was being
an asshole-not that I’m judging him, I miss him anyway
(he quit piano). Just, he, you know, was. An asshole, that
is.
The parents have been on a rare streak of decent-
ness.
On Tuesday, February 16, 2010, Dad hit me. He was
so royally pissed.
Then, Mom told me she knew how I stole the food,
the empty calories. She doesn’t know why. It’s so that I
can try to fill that empty space in me whenever someone
hurts me. I used to be able to talk about it, to the
people I cared about most (first my parents, then Lauren,
then Eric, then Maddie…Now nobody.) I just fill up. I
know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it, as soon as I get sad.
I try to hurt my body instead of letting my mind eat
me up before it dies. Spontaneous combustion. I’ve cut a
couple of times, when it got so bad, but I usually just got
the food. The good thing, or bad thing, was that I could
cut, and nobody would ever think I was, even though I
didn’t hide the cuts. I guess that nobody ever thought
about me that way.
 I realized, after the no talk streak, when Daddy
came to talk to me, that I couldn’t even sit in his lap
anymore, didn’t feel safe. It wasn’t the physical part,
more that I wasn’t sure if something I said would force
him into calling me a fucking tubelight or telling me to go
to hell again. Or, strangely, that I would hurt him, which
worried me too. He said he doesn’t trust me anymore.
There’s no reason to trust me. Mommy does anyway. She
hopes I’ll get back to the right track, has enough faith in
me. I don’t even have that faith in myself. I lost any
faith in people after watching the parents fight, getting
told to go down under, getting hit, watching those key
people leave me. I could only get hurt by those people if
I gave them the trust to do so. I trust my parents, but I
don’t trust anymore. It hurts too much.
I haven’t written because I’ve been talking. Not to
anybody, but to the voice in my head-not that I hear one.
I just pretend I’m talking to Eric and he’s listening the
same way he listened when I told him I was scared to get
my period (seriously, how many boys will listen to that?)
and he doesn’t judge, just gives advice. Which I have yet
to take, other than the advice about the counselor.
I told Mr. Auday that I wanted the arguing to stop.
That’s sooo not true. I want him to get me to stop
hurting my body by binging when I’m sad until I start to
hate eating, by those cuts, and to make me feel my worth
somehow. Because I always do feel useless, when I talk
to people, even if it is unintentional to make me hurt.
 Which is why, whenever I have a male teacher, I
adopt them as my dad (in my mind) and try to make them
proud, because I can’t make Daddy proud. This year, I’m
trying to get Shaw to see the best in me. Not that he
knows, but he’s enough like Daddy that it feels good to do
something right by him. That paragraph is so damn
messed up.
I want to feel wanted. I had this ludicrous notion
that if we called the people I care about, and had me
listen in on a conversation about my importance in their
lives, it would be the worst thing for me to hear.
About the fact that I don’t feel like Daddy loves me,
Mommy keeps telling me to ask him. I can’t. Because he
might say no.

February 23, 2010

Another entry before school. I cut yesterday; I
couldn’t seem to stop myself.
I’m terrified to meet again with Mr. Auday. What if
he judges me, or decides that I’m not being honest?
They (whoever that is) say that acknowledging a
problem is the first step towards solving it. Hopefully,
that means this is solvable.
I did, however, come to the inevitable conclusion
that the only way I would be able to workout- no, to show
him what I mean would be to just let him read this. You,
know, a little peak in my brain to make him see what I
mean. I don’t know what else to do, but God, it’ll be
embarrassing.
 More conversations with the friend in the back of
my head. Amazing how that sometimes makes things
clearer.
Things are feeling worse and worse. Not only did I
cut last night, I also binged. I feel so gross; I just want
it to stop. But I don’t see any way to do that. I can’t
even help myself. I

March 10, 2010

I haven’t written in a long time. As you can tell.
See, the thing is, this is hard for me. So hard. And, as I
realized right before I made myself write this, the
reason I haven’t written is because I have been scared.
Scared that writing all of this down will make it even
more permanent than it already is.
Side thought: I’m thinking of rewriting this
somewhat and working to make it into a real story, like a
book.
Anyhoo, I haven’t cut or binged since the last time I
wrote. Actually, in order for this to make any sense at
all, I will have to make this a story format.
The day after my last entry- no, make that two days.
Two days after that, on Nikhil’s tenth birthday, I got my
summons to Auday’s office. After struggling some with
words, I finally showed him the journal. This journal.
Confessing this was the hardest thing I have ever done in
my whole life. The hardest goddamn thing ever.
Including no suicide.
 I showed him, and he said that they were going to
help me. I tried to believe him, but the majority of me
was like, bullshit. ‘Cause if I can’t help myself, then…How
is anybody going to help me? But, since dealing on my own
obviously wasn’t working, I decided, well, it was better
than nothing. Auday said he was going to introduce me to
Julie Jungman, Interventionist.
I went back to class, and got another pass out of
class, to the office. Auday walked me to the door of an
office, and explained things to Julie Jungman, sitting
inside. We talked about the reason I cut, how it made me
feel out of control, how I hated binging and cutting but
couldn’t seem to stop. Obviously, I don’t have details,
because it has been awhile. But the tears and talking
were extensive. And then, as shown in her contract,
Julie had to call one of my parents. So, she tried Mommy
two times; she picked up on the second. Julie told her.
She handled herself, I guess. I told her not to ruin
Nikhil’s birthday. Bad karma (that ran over my dogma-
get it?) that it all came out then.
I know why I put stupid, stupid jokes in this journal.
Because if I’m too serious, I won’t be able to deal with it,
won’t spill. Which is also why I’ve decided to make sure
that I write every day. No matter how hard it is, I need
to write everyday.
So things progressed from bad to worse, with
meetings with Julie, and many talks. Also, the first time,
we came up with a safety contract. It stated that I
couldn’t cut or binge.
 I haven’t.
So we still talk, and I lie to Mommy and Daddy when
they ask if I am doing good, doing okay. It doesn’t seem
like they care, anyway, so no worries.
But the issues are becoming worse. I flinch when
hands come anywhere near my face, thanks to Daddy’s
violence. I can’t have myself bleed, because before I cut
purposefully, I just reopened old stuff. I hate eating-
not to the point of anorexia, just that food is gross.
Mommy and Daddy are trying to pretend that nothing
happened, it was no big deal, just because they can’t
cope.
And something in me died, recently. I can’t do
anything right, so I don’t want to try. Daddy was shocked
that I got fives in Federated Festival, even though I
played well. I can’t get my work in on time. I thought I
would try at school, but if life sucks, what does it
matter? Who cares about those grades? Not me. I lost
a trivia competition, and where I would normally be fine,
I hated it because all I could think of was how Daddy
would say I should try harder. So I don’t want to that
either. I’m having such a hard time just getting out of
bed right nowadays. It doesn’t seem worth it. And all I
do is lie. Lie when people ask me how I’m doing, lie so I
seem happy. My laughs, my conversation, my smiles, even
my effort, are all lies. And I’m losing the will to lie.
Because that takes more effort than I think that I have.
Then, yesterday, Tuesday March 9, 2010, I had the
worst day ever. Mr. Shaw made me cry. Even worse, it
was because he was being nice. I hid it, nobody saw (god,
I hope not!), but still. It was because I was talking to
him about postponing the due dates for the To Kill A
Mockingbird project, and he was understanding, all, “You
can put your life on hold, if that is what you need.”
Whereas my dad went, after I told him I was talking to
teachers, “Your grades aren’t slipping, are they?
Whatever you do, don’t fall behind in school, because
that is what matters.” What, I don’t matter? Mr. Shaw
was being a better dad than mine was.
It’s not like Daddy is a bad guy (because I’m sure
that is how he looks in this journal). I just struggle with
our relationship. Now I just give up. He said he was
trying, but he doubted he could change. So why bother?
I don’t think this newfound depression will…Actually,
the issue is that right now, I just want to go to sleep for,
well, a million years. But I’m worried that if something
doesn’t happen soon, the urge will turn suicidal, and I
can’t risk that, don’t want that. That would ruin
everything, especially after I have tried so hard. Even if
I don’t care enough to try now.
I am going to try to see Julie tomorrow. See if
somebody could help me.
Yeah right.
Still feels like bullshit.
I know that this is better than nothing, but I feel so
helpless, that I can’t solve this on my own. Not to
mention that this cutting thing could be viewed as weak.
I…Well, maybe it is. Maybe I’m not strong enough to deal
with this in the ‘strong way’. And the world will have to
deal with it.
Just like I do.

March 11, 2010

Today I talked to Julie again. We are going to
arrange a meeting for my parents. I don’t know if I am
more scared or relieved. It could help, but it could also
cause a mass freak out.
With the depression getting worse, Julie wants me
to consider that I might want to consider going to a
doctor (because a chemical imbalance in my brain might
be causing this).
That scares me too.
Then, we went to conferences. My teachers
seemed mostly happy, but I was really scared that
someone would make a slip and it would be awful because
Daddy would hear it and go off on me. And I am pretty
sure I would not be able to deal with that.
I also had a talk with my parents. It was mostly
lecture, but still, it was technically a discussion, since
everybody contributed to the
conversation/lecture/whatever-the-hell-that-stupid-
thing-was. Yay us.
I still haven’t killed myself yet. A possibility, but
one that I hope is getting fainter.
I am considering rewriting this as a more story-
ish/impersonal thing and giving it to Shaw to edit so that
it could become a story. Not everyone can write about
this kind of stuff because it happened to him or her. I’m
unique.
I just wish life was perfect and love was easy. I also
still need to find that other half I was looking for.
Someone who I feel honest around. I feel that with
friends, I guess, but not completely. I only share parts.
I’m pretty sure the whole would have me committed to,
like, an asylum or clinic or therapy. Just like I thought
that sharing my mask, like in LA, would probably get me
the same thing.
Instead, I did it to myself. Go figure. I wonder if
masochism could run in the family?
CSAP is over, thank god, because I’m ready to shoot
myself- no, wait, that was badly worded. I’d use pills
anyway. But I meant that I hated CSAP.
Like I hate me.
I hate CSAP a lot. A lot. Really ginormous amounts.
I hate it to the point of real loathing.
Almost as much as I sometimes hate myself. Man, I
am way too nice to myself, aren’t I?

March 17, 2010

So I know I said I would write everyday. I just need
to get into the habit, that’s all.
I got sick over the weekend, and I’ve missed two
days of school (yesterday and today). I’m missing
schoolwork, and still haven’t caught up in all my classes. I
have so much darned stuff to get done. It’s taking so
long to get caught up, that I just don’t know how to
finish. I think that I’ll have to work over spring break to
get things done.
Mommy’s signed me up for a doctor’s appointment
with Dr. Hibbard. Well, the female one (Dr. Hibbard’s
wife?) who does therapy, so that I get a depression
screening. Fun, fun, fun. Hopefully, whatever it does, it
at least improves things. It’s getting to the point where
it takes me half an hour of will power and self-given pep
talks to get myself out of bed, not to mention the
constant tiredness and apathy. Great.
I better improve fast or I’m worried that I’ll do
something drastic just to feel again.
On Tuesday…Actually, yesterday, I was [] that close
to cutting (that being the space between the brackets).
I picked up the needle and everything. I didn’t though.
Small sense of pride, that at least I didn’t. I was just
upset that I couldn’t even be sick. I had to do my
homework and everything when I felt like shit. Well,
nothing to be done. Daddy’s irrational. What’s new?
Poem coming:
Control
Little things that
Go wrong no matter
How hard I try
The effort I give
Bigger things
Those never change
No matter
What I do
To try to move those
Mountains
In my path
Lots of pain
That my
Faults
Are so much bigger
Than the rest of me
All that hurt on the
Inside comes out through
Blood
Cuts
Those never go wrong
No matter
What is done
Because
In that swirl of
Simple cuts
Easy pain
I
Am the master
And the master
Always has
Control

Back in black. Well, the typing is, anyway. I’m

thinking that instead of that ridiculous book journal I
was using to write, I might copy this and then develop it
into a book on its own. People say to write what you know.
This is what I know, right?
I will talk later.  NO, that’s wrong.  Not that
either… There. Apathy in a smiley face.

March 18, 2010

Mommy’s going to cancel the appointment with Dr.
Mrs. Hibbard, because she doesn’t take insurance, and
she is DAMN expensive ($90 an hour). So, Julie sent us
a list, and we’re gonna make an appointment with them. I
am…concerned that the new
doctor/therapist/psychoanalyst/whatever will be a pain
in the buttooshky (or, as it’s known in most languages,
butt. Or ass. Or …you get the deal).
Today, I was the only person in my 59-person class
to get 100% in the To Kill A Mockingbird test. When I
told Daddy, he was actually proud. Weirdest thing ever.
Also, I was moderately to fairly un-depressed today.
God, it was a shocker. Still took me forever to get out of
bed and motivated, but still. I’m…not happy, but at least
not suicidal. Wow.
I have books to read, things to do.
Bullshit. I’m in such low demand right now. I’ll deal.
Sure. Of course I’ll deal. I’m just so damned good
at that. (Wink, wink, see scars- which, by the way, might
be fading [cross fingers])
I miss Eric. And Lauren. And good friends to talk
to.
 I just noticed that I put Eric on the list before
Lauren. Lordy me. What does that mean? Maybe I just
want a guy’s perspective.
I hope so. I can’t deal with any other complications
in my life just now.

March 22, 2010

Still haven’t managed to write daily. Oh well.
Spring break started, and as today is Monday,
Mommy went off to work, and I am babysitting Nikhil.
However, soon that won’t be necessary, because Mommy
got an offer from GHX on Wednesday, March 17. And,
since that is close, I’ll still be sitting, but not as much.
Which is mostly a good thing, except that Mommy hasn’t…
actually, I mean that Mommy will be breathing down my
neck more often. Lovely.
Guess what? No cutting since my letting the cat out
of the bag. Or telling the counselors, or whatever. Still
not eating great, but I’m determined to conquer that.
Daddy thinks that since it happened in the past, we
can ignore it because it is over and will never happen
again. He also thinks that the cutting thing was my…my
fault, my screw-up, my bad decisions. It wasn’t
something that I could control. Anyway, imagine of I
hadn’t; I would have committed suicide by now, most
likely.
Today was okay. Since I’m on break, a little less
work (and a lot less of the parents-especially Daddy) I’m
doing a bit better (although, really, according to my dear
papa, I’m still screwing up, due to my decisions that were
in the past-which doesn’t make any sense, but does he
ever?). I still always feel tired, but I’m staying away
from the extra food, and no blood.
Miss having good friends now more than ever. I…
Well, don’t get me wrong, but…I mean, I love the LMS
kids, but they don’t always cut it, because not one of
them actually knows everything, and most of them don’t
even know the half of it, with good reason. Melena and
Aleah and a few others think that most of the kids who
say they are bisexual are faking. No way am I gonna
come out, then, because what if they don’t believe me?
Claire would flaunt the knowledge that she did get,
because that is what she does. Not a bad thing, but she
would go around and say, “Well, did you hear what Kavita
said? Oh, well, if you didn’t, I’m not going to tell you,
because it is a secret.” After all, she does that even if
you haven’t told her anything. I can’t talk to Maddie, she
might stop talking to me again, and it’s just a big pain in
the butt. Only Callie and Carly even know about the
bisexual thing, and I absolutely can’t tell them about
cutting, because they might not believe me, or they would
flip out, or they would laugh or something. Not to
mention that that means I would have to tell them why,
thus betraying my careful mask of calm, cool, collected
and uncaring. Or at least, unemotional.
I’m not sure that I could tell Lauren or Eric (how sad
that those two people, the two who I see the least, are
the only two I’ve been able to at least feel as though I
can trust for a while). I know I would probably have
tried, if this had happened while I was still that close to
them. Even now, if I can talk to Lauren, I would probably
break all confidentiality and tell her. At least about…
well, definitely about the bisexual thing, but maybe even
about the cutting thing. I’d try. As for Eric, I’d have
enough trouble asking him how things are going (that’s
how nervous I feel around him, now that I have been…
well, now that we haven’t really made much contact), but
hopefully I’ll get close enough, again, to try. I just hope
that…Well, here is how I think around him. Eric!!!!! .
Oh, should I have seemed so happy? What if he doesn’t
think that is cool? So I’ll go with refined coolness, like,
hey, ‘sup? But what if he thinks that I don’t want to see
him then? So I should act natural. But what if my
natural is dorky? What if he has outgrown me? What if
he snubs me? So hopefully, I can just be me and he’ll
love it or he won’t, and I’ll go with it and move on. And,
ideally, learn to think without the buts and what-ifs.
I’m just surprised that I really do care so much.
Kind of shocking, at least to me. Not about Lauren-she
totally deserves the caring. But Eric-well, I only really
knew him for a year. But it was a good year. And he was
new and different, so maybe that’s it. Or it could be a
crush, which would be embarrassing, if even I can’t see
that. But, since I was kinda in denial about the Cyrus
scenario, maybe that is it. I sure as hell wouldn’t mind if
Eric liked me, I guess, so that says something. But not
really, ‘cause if every damn boy in the universe liked me,
shit, well, I’d be happy-or at least okay- with that.
Probably because it is never going to happen. I don’t have
low self esteem (at least, not about my body); I’m just
realistic. And, to the best of my knowledge, nobody
worth knowing about actually thinks I’m even remotely
good-looking. Lovely. Actually, wrong word in the
context. I meant, isn’t that the darned best thing ever
(sarcastically, of course).

Later
God, it’s kind of refreshing to be on break, without
Daddy pestering-no, constantly pushing me to do work,
when, sometimes, I just don’t want to. I just can’t always
do what he needs me to do, and I’m pretty sure that that
isn’t what I want in the first place.
I’m just reading, listening to music, relaxing, and
writing in here.
I feel fat. Those extra ten pounds need to be shed
fast, because I am so damn self-conscious about them.
There a huge horrible reminder of what happened. That
isn’t it, though. I’ll have scars on my wrist to remind me.
It’s more like the pounds are a share of blame I’m being
forced to carry, where I shouldn’t have to carry blame at
all, and as soon as I lose them, I’ll have worked through
the blame. Does that make sense?
 Later (again); Or, Maybe, EVEN Later
I just went cycling with Nikhil, which is a good way
to unwind. I went by the Spangler’s house a good four
times, and was, amazingly, disappointed every time that
they weren’t home and out. I didn’t realize I could miss
anyone this much. Especially a boy- no, that’s not true. I
miss some males more acutely than the females. I think
maybe I would be a good guy, except that I would still be
a bisexual, almost gay. Other than that, I would totally
love to be a boy. Which isn’t weird, in my opinion.
I’m thinking of giving Eric his picture from NHD
with a note, just so that he had it, and I could leave a
note with it. Just because. I’m almost definitely,
assuming I can manage it, going to give him a birthday
card on his birthday, August 14. Just for fun.
I’m really writing a lot today, huh? Wow. I never
thought I would.

Even, EVEN Later.

I’m starting to feel tired again. I’m always tired
now, and…just…ugh.
Then, since I read mushy books with romance, it’s
sooo not helping, because every time I think about it, or
even just read, I’m reminded of how lacking my own life
is-not of someone to have sex with, but of someone that
I am comfortable around. Sucks for me.
Huh. I’ve written 5 pages today.
 I just accidentally found a shortcut. The ‘start key’
(or the one with the flag thing on it) plus ‘d’ minimizes
windows. Isn’t it fabulous?
Is it possible to love someone without- well, someone
of the opposite sex, or whom you aren’t related to, in my
case- feeling romantically for him or her? I’ve always
thought that there is the love for relatives, a love for
friends, and a love for romantic involvement. But now,
when Eric, whom I’ve always thought of as the best of
friends-when I don’t know how I feel about him, and when
my friend Maddie was also a crush, is that really true?
It seems a bit simplistic to think that love is love is love,
but maybe they are created equal, instead of on
different levels. I’m not saying I’ll think of Nikhil
romantically, but maybe love, by definition, means similar
things for all types. The difference would be lust or
desire between lovers that don’t show up other places.

March 23, 2010

I just talked to Mommy. She said that something
new has popped up in our lives. She and Daddy had a talk,
and Daddy said/told her/confessed to something, and
they are agreed to going to some kind of marriage
counseling.
She would not tell me what it was.
Therefore, I am a bit stressed, because I have
absolutely no clue what it is, except for certain things:
1. It happened sometime last year.
 2. It does not physically endanger Mommy, Nikhil
or me.
3. It does not physically endanger Daddy himself.
4. It could cause Nikhil or me (or Mommy)
emotional or mental harm.
5. It will hopefully not endanger Daddy and
Nikhil’s/ my relationship with Daddy.
6. It is bad enough that Mommy and Daddy are
going to do marriage counseling.
7. It is bad enough that Mommy is considering
divorce if something doesn’t get
solved/fixed/changed.
8. Daddy doesn’t want Mommy to tell Nikhil or me
about this.
9. Therefore, Daddy probably doesn’t want Nikhil
or me to know about this.
So what the hell am I supposed to do? I’m mildly
freaked out, but-
Actually, no. I’m having a mother fucking panic
attack. What is this big? Shouldn’t I know? I’m
probably more stressed just thinking about it than
knowing. What if he was:
1. Cheating on Mommy?
2. Gambling/something to that nature?
3. It couldn’t be drugs or alcohol, because those
would physically endanger Daddy, but what if
that weren’t what she counted?
 4. What if he was involved in…anything, really,
that could cause Mommy to think that it
violated both Daddy’s and her values?
I don’t even know, but I need to find an opportunity
to at least allow him to tell me (without my prying him
with questions), or I’ll go mad.
I don’t think anybody realizes how close to the edge
I was before I told. I was already preparing myself to
get a hold of those sleeping pills to overdose. I had
already told Mommy about the insomnia. I would have let
her get me through many natural remedies that “didn’t
work,” and it is likely that after that she would have
taken me to a doctor, or I would have asked, and I could
have gotten some sleeping pills (to be carefully monitored
or not- I had a plan for either way):
1. If they were just stuck in the medicine cabinet,
which seems likely, I could have just grabbed a
bunch, swallowed, and died (like, in my sleep).
2. If they were monitored, I could just save the
one pill I got every night, “eaten it,” “slept,” and
gone through the cycle until I had a bunch of
the pills to swallow, sleep, and never wake up.
I don’t even know what to do now. I’m having an
almost full-scale panic attack. I can’t talk to anybody
(who would I trust to talk to?). I can’t talk to a counselor
(we aren’t in school). I …well, I refuse to cut or binge. I
hope I can stop. I have ridiculous measures for
prevention going. Music, and I’m journaling, and I’ll read
a book, snap a rubber band, whatever it takes.
 I’m just not sure I can. This is so much to feel, a lot
of stress, and Mommy, well; Mommy has it so bad that
she even let herself cry. So now I feel under pressure to
keep it in, be strong for Nikhil, and be as cut free as
they all expect me to be. I don’t know if I can manage.
It feels too big. Something that big, that unmanageable,
will likely burst out in blood. I hope not. But I’ll also
update if it happens. It’s sitting in the back of my mind,
this notion that cutting would help, and I’m fighting, but
it’s like fighting without the actual sword. I can only do
so much, right?

Later (2:59 pm)

I cracked, just about 5 minutes ago. I cut. So
shoot me (actually, that would hardly be a punishment.
Great.). I didn’t think…Actually, I just couldn’t hold it in.
ARGH!! I’m reading and all, but it came…well, bursting
out in blood. I didn’t actually make myself bleed, just
scratched a lot with a pin; however, it appears that the
skin is stretching enough to ensure some
scabbing/scarring, but I think I’ll be able to cover it up.
That’s a bit disgusting, that I think I’m going to hide it.
I still think I’ll need to confront Daddy, or things
will be getting worse and worse.
Ah, fuck. Life just doesn’t seem worth it.
Sometimes. Actually, most of the time.

Later (10:26 pm)

Daddy and Mommy just had a conversation with me.
 Turns out I was right. Daddy was cheating on
Mommy. But not sexually. Daddy had a relationship,
through phone and email, with a woman he knew from
college, or school in India (I didn’t get caught up on those
details). It was an ‘emotional’ relationship. He felt
comforted talking to her.
From the beginning, though. He used LinkedIn, that
professional linking site, to get in touch with this old
friend he knew. That friend, in turn, was linked to this
woman (Ruby?) that Daddy knew. He contacted her, in
order to make sure she was who she said she was. This
was in May, or maybe April (apparently).
He started to talk to her. At first, it was only on a
professional basis, but then it started to get personal.
He talked to her a lot about the problems he had with his
marriage. Or, in other words, his issues with Mommy. To
a complete stranger. Well, not stranger, since they had
met before, but not someone he knew either, as it had
been, like, twenty years since he had last seen her.
They made lots of contact, to the point where, on
that trip to Seattle, to visit Mommy’s parents, there
were emails like ‘I’ll be jogging from 4:45 to 5:30. Call
me on my cell phone. I look forward to talking to you.’
Eventually, things ended (apparently, once again. I
have my doubts.) when she told him that she thought he
didn’t have enough time for her, so when he had cleaned
up his mess of a life, he could get back in touch. He says
he hasn’t. I’m not so sure. That ending was a bit too
much like a well-told lie. I would know, right? I’m getting
good at those.
So then, one day, Mommy happened to be looking at
Daddy’s email to print out a refinancing form, and she
saw them. The emails, I mean. She called Daddy at work,
and they have been talking. She was obviously really hurt
by that.
The thing that strikes me, though, is this question:
What did we do wrong?
What the hell was it that made it so that Daddy
couldn’t confide in us, but could confide in some lady?
What did we do wrong that we couldn’t provide him that
‘comfort’?
I know that technically, I shouldn’t be assigning
blame to anybody, that it isn’t my fault-although I can
certainly blame Daddy. He deserves it. But it is so hard
not to just ask what I did wrong, because I am so used to
being wrong, being the one who should work harder. And
it just hurts me so bad, that Ruby(?) could be trusted,
while his family could not. What did I do, we do, to make
us untrustworthy? I don’t want to be. I don’t think I
should be. So not fair. But, then, neither is life.
I just hurt so much, but it’s giving way to numb.
Somehow, I get the feeling that I won’t be able to get
out of bed tomorrow. It will seem like too much work.
But, eventually, to maintain my façade of recovery, I’ll
muster the effort.
I have so much to look forward to.
 I thought I was growing past it, moving on, but I
have to say it again.
Fuck the world.
I want to die.

March 25, 2010

Didn’t write yesterday, but nothing much happened.
Life goes on, and you deal.
I’m still a bit pissed and hurt about Daddy’s
‘confession,’ but I think it would be rude if I- not rude,
but weird if I was acting on those emotions more than
Mommy, and she is putting up with things just fine, thank
you very much. I don’t know how much of this I can deal
with. I don’t think that she’s at all over this, but she’s
keeping moving, so I will too.
Tomorrow we are going to the Echo (or Eco, I’m not
sure) Mountain Ski Resort, for some winter fun. Ideally
fun, anyway. I’m terrified of the whole skiing thing, what
with the height and lack of control, but here goes, right?
And it’s not like I’ve never done this before. I have. I’m
just a wee bit nervous is all. After all, it’s been two
years. Two whole years.
Obviously, I’ve got no way to update this on the trip;
I’m pretty much praying to god that nothing will happen-
or not, since I don’t think he really exists, more of a
hoping to karma, maybe? Anyway, I hope nothing does
happen, because I’m not really in a position to deal with
it. I just can’t right? The dealing is hard, right now.
 Speaking of dealing, no one has noticed or asked
about the cuts, so hopefully I can just let them heal and
be on my merry way (even if I have to lie a couple times.
I’ll deal.).
Not that much to say, over all. I’m just plodding
along in my sorry little cloud of depression, feigning
laughter, and occasionally breaking out into almost
hysterically joyful moods when the plain old lie-through-
you-teeth-of-course-I’m-fine kind of thing doesn’t work.
Still alive, though.
Not that I really have a choice.

March 29, 2010

I haven’t written, but that isn’t because of the trip.
We didn’t actually go. Apparently, the weather in Echo
Mountain was bad, so we went to Eldora one day. That
was all. I skied. I now qualify as a Green/Blue skier.
Better than nothing.
Today was a bad day. First off, I was just mucho
blech, for whatever reason, and I couldn’t sleep that well.
When we went on errands (we being Mommy and me),
we stopped at Rocky Mountain Chocolate factory. Since
I have my braces off (since March 8, but whatever), I
reminded her that I needed to get a candy apple (since I
could actually eat it). She asked, “and this is your
response to binging?” I don’t think I have ever been hurt
so badly in the longest time. I have been trying so hard,
but evidently, that didn’t matter at all. Anything I did
was wrong. She said that she phrased it wrong, etc., but
that’s not true, and everybody knows it.
Then, I had piano. I set up an appointment for
Daddy with Carol to talk about getting a grand piano (by
the way, I’m going to be playing, as a contemporary piece,
100 Years by Five for Fighting).
They not only talked about college, b-
Wait. I meant, they not only talked about pianos,
they talked about college.
And Daddy was all, “You have a lot to start thinking
about” because of all the requirements, and everything
else.
The first thing I thought about was that for me,
they first priority was functioning like a decent human
being.
I want to survive to tomorrow. How the hell am I
supposed to think about college when I’m using all my
effort to get to tomorrow? I don’t know if I’ll make it all
the way to my birthday, or high school, let alone college.
Worst of all, I don’t feel like things are improving.
I’m still having such a hard time just dealing. I can’t deal
much longer. I lie, say things are improving, life is
better, love is easy -well, not that, but still- and that
things will return to normal. Or at least some semblance
of normalcy. Bullshit. Things are going downhill, it’s just
getting that much harder to get out of bed to face the
world. And I’m still on break. As soon as school starts, I
have to get back in the game, get back to work, to
finishing things, to pretend even better, because more
eyes are watching me.
And I am so sick of pretending.
Sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to
actually let someone in my bubble. I don’t think that I
ever will.
I have trust issues, to name the elephant in the
room. I can’t trust, and so far, it has saved and killed me.
I can’t change that. But still.
Someday I’d like to let someone step all the way in.

April 7, 2010
So, it’s kind of been a while. There isn’t a real
reason for that except that writing makes it feel too
final. Too real. I don’t think that I can deal with that.
Couldn’t and still can’t, but I gotta write sometime, right?
I can’t just build it all up. So, I’ll start with the big
stuff, which started on Thursday.
Mommy, Daddy and I went to the meeting planned on
Thursday with Julie. We said we were all healing, moving
on etc. A load of pathetic blabber. Or, to quote Mr.
Shaw, ‘malarkey’. Which was fine, because they left, and
nobody’s feelings got hurt. Cool by me, huh?
Then, I stayed behind, and told Julie that things,
emotionally, were just not improving. I could see that
people were trying, but I just didn’t feel it. (If I was
using hand gestures, I’d be fisting my heart). Then I told
here about the cutting, and this comment Nikhil made on
Wednesday at karate, where I hit him (accidentally) and
he said, “No problem. I’ve gotten worse from Daddy.” I
couldn’t believe that something like that had happened
and I didn’t know. Especially after all the times I’ve
tried to protect him. Then the choke story came out,
too. Julie had to report it to Social Services. Mr. Auday
had already reported the slap, but Julie had to tell about
the choke story, and the fact that I used make-up to
cover up the bruises for a week and a half. I felt so
guilty, like a betrayer, like I shouldn’t have told.
Additionally, Mommy had to be called about the cutting.
Great.
Then, at night, Mommy brought up the cutting, and
the whole thing came spilling out, and I went into semi-
hysterics, and couldn’t stop crying for two hours straight.
They kept telling me it was okay that I told, etc., but I
felt like a butt hole for ‘selling them out’.
Then we had a whole bunch of talks about giving
Daddy a second chance, which I will, but if he slips once,
that’s it. I’ll be gone.
I think that’s how this issue started. Daddy’s-well, I
guess I didn’t just feel inferior. Daddy was abusive.
Verbally and physically. I was just feeling a bit more of
the verbal kind, like I have been recently, because that’s
the kind he uses most.
This is where my trust issues come into play. I don’t
trust Daddy at all with my physical safety (he says he
slipped out of ignorance-but then, why didn’t he stop
when we told him too?), so I can’t trust him with my
emotional safety, either. If he slips with that (out of
ignorance or not) I’d actually go through with the suicide
plan, I think. That’s how frail I feel. Like I’m being
ripped into a million tiny pieces and can’t hold myself
together.
So, all that stinks, and was awful, and I’m not going
to be able to convey all that pain into this journal, so this
is the best we’re gonna get.
At Reading Buddies, that library volunteer program,
I found out that I had to nominate someone for the
summer program. Immediately, I thought of Eric (isn’t
that insane? What am I thinking about him?). I didn’t
have his number memorized, so I had to wait. Sarah (the
leader) said I could just call him. I tried once (Alex
picked up, Eric wasn’t home), then started to call a
second time (I chickened out). So Sarah has his number,
and will be calling, and I won’t. Why am I intimidated
anyway? I know he was my friend, but why do I care
soooo much what he thinks of me? If he hates me, he’s
not worth it, right? So what if I volunteer? If he think
that’s stupid, he’s definitely not worth it, right?
I’m starting to think this goes deeper than missing a
friend. Or I’d be missing Lauren this badly -which I’m
not. She just hurt my feelings by never calling after
Cancun. I thought she wanted to hang out, but maybe
not. And I can only call so many times.
I don’t have anything else to say. Not now, anyway.
Oh! Well, I’m still not caught up on schoolwork, but
I’m getting closer, thank god- or, I should say, goodness.
Th-th-th-th-That’s All, Folks!
 April 12, 2010
I guess that it’s kind of been a while. Breaking news
is:
 We have a leak in the ceiling of the family room
from the master bathroom shower. Daddy and I had
to cut a hole in the ceiling so he could examine pipes.
It made a mess.
 I started my period on Saturday, and on
Saturday night, I made a huge mess of sheets, and
we had to wash them. There was no permanent
staining, but the cramps are worse than ever.
 I’m still not caught up, and I don’t know what to
do about it.
I’m having a bunch of trouble with everything, and
I’m not sure what to do. I think something broke in me,
because even though I think we’re all at least trying to
improve, I’m so screwed. Apathy and sadness, the
occasional laughter, but never happiness. I just bumble
along on autopilot. I was to fix it all, but it doesn’t look
like it’ll happen.
Mommy needs me to eat dinner, so I’ll be back.

Later (7:30)
I just checked email. So, on Saturday, we went to
Daddy’s friends house to listen to some of their kids play
piano, and it was cool, and the high school guy, Jay, I
think his name was, was hot. So, I sent Melena this
email:
 That guy.
Kavita Krishnan ✆ to Melena, Melena
show details Apr 10 (2 days ago)

So, you know that one high school senior I was going
to meet with those other people to play
piano, and all that jazz?

So, yes. Absolutely. Totally hot, and smart (he's

going into biomedical engineering!).
I have a semi-crush on my dad's friend's son. How
strange. Not to mention that he's eighteen and leaving
for school (John Hopkins, apparently).

It would never work. I only met him today, and I'll

probably never meet him again. *Sigh*

Oh, and he's a pretty darn good pianist, on top of it

all.

I don't know why I'm going all soppy on you, or if

you'll even read this, but hey, here it is. It must be the
hormones from
my period.

I can't even believe I wrote this, actually, but I

needed to spill, and it's not like I'm brave enough to tell
you in person ("Oh, Melena, he's so dreamy!")
 Talk to you at school.
Or not. I might be too embarassed.

Tell anybody and you die.

Kavita

PS I bet he even beats Joe.

PPS He is definitely not vanilla.

Definitely chocolate. Not dark chocolate, but still.
I wouldn't know about fillings ;)

PPPS There were other kids there, too. All really

good at music. I didn't make a fool of myself, on the
bright side. On the negative, everybody called me 'quiet'
so I either look shy or I look mentally retarded. Two
guesses as to which one I think.

Please Please Please Please Please

Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
 Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
Please Please Please Please Please
DON'T TELL ANYBODY. IT WOULD BE A
NIGHTMARE, AND YOU KNOW IT.

So now, you know what I think. He’s amazing. You

can read the stupid email. Whatever.
Things just don’t seem to be looking up, is all, and I
need to fix it. The issue with that is that I can’t. Go
figure. I’m going to actually make this into a story, see if
I can give it to Shaw.
 Today, Shaw was being an asswipe, making all these
comments, and he was like, “I’m just giving you a hard
time. You know that, right?”
And I really wanted to say, “Does it look like I need
anymore hard times in my life? Huh?”
I didn’t, of course, but I wish I had.
Later, Alligator.

April 16, 2010

Yesterday, I was using the snap a rubber band/ hair
tie trick. I snapped a lot, and so hard that by now my
wrist has swollen to twice its size, and I can’t bend it.
Isn’t that perfect?
Then, this morning, I found out the hairspray thing
is absolutely true. You can use a pin and make scratches,
then cover them in hairspray, and they will puff up
before you eyes. It’s amazing. It also keeps it hurting
longer.
I don’t think I do this anymore because of ‘releasing
the pain’. I’m just going numb again, and the cuts make
me feel. Not in a positive sense, but still, feel.
I’m avoiding things I’d love, also. I wanted to skip
lunch yesterday just to avoid my friends. It’s like a feel
so removed from things, so numb, that I’ve removed
myself from my friends. Not good, but there you have it.
I probably won’t want to see them today, either, so
maybe I’ll just get a lunch pass.
I talked to Julie yesterday. She’s pretty sure I
might need medical assistance; Daddy refuses to think
that it may even be possible. He won’t back down about
any of it, instead convinced that time is all I need. I’m
pretty sure that I’m running out of time by now. Any
longer and I’ll make sure I don’t get out of bed in the
morning, instead of wishing I wouldn’t wake up.
I’m going to spend some time on writing this into the
story now. I’m not sure why, it’s totally irrational –just
like the rest of me- but I have some instinctive need to
get this to Shaw very soon. Whatever. I can trust my
gut, I think. I hope. I haven’t really let myself think
about possible consequences; when I do, I ignore them.
Maybe it’s because, since Shaw’s my adopted Daddy
for the year, I feel like giving him an honest glimpse of
the way things are, so that he doesn’t think that I’m
flunking his class by being lazy. Maybe I just want
someone to see me in a good light. Or at least see what
I’m going through, because even Carly is getting fed up by
the fact that I’m not doing my homework.
Here goes.
Character renaming, in case I forget:
Cyrus = Zach
Eric = Eric
Maddie = Maggie
Zach = Sam
Gabe = Gabe
Casey = Miles
Warren = Will
Nikhil = Nick
Tal = Tim
 Erin = Lucy
Mr. Shaw = ?
Mrs. Lotterhos = Mrs. Slater

Later (9:18 PM)

Here I am, after seeing the LMS school play,
Connections. It wasn’t too bad. Not great, but not too
shabby.
Erin Lucey, the one and only, gave a speech about
cutting. It was the one thing that touched me. I almost
cried.
It’s true, everything she said. I’ll try to get a copy
of her monologue for this. I’ll write it up, or something.
I’m losing. I’m fighting a losing battle, and losing I
am. I don’t know how to get up in the morning. I don’t
know if I can pull through.
It sure as hell doesn’t look like it. And who am I
going to talk to about that? Julie Jungman is a paid
professional who will be out of my life during- at least by
the end of- May. And then I’ll be screwed. Mommy
wants me to hold on to things at least until the
appointment at the Doctor’s.
I can’t. I fell off the wagon with the hairspray
thing, and I don’t know if I can stop. I can’t do this.
I really cannot do this.
And that’s all there is to it. Sometime soon, I won’t
be able to get out of bed.
After that, I’ll make sure I don’t.
I don’t know what changed, but I lost.
 Lost hope, the battle, and happiness. Even Nikhil,
now that I’ve told about Daddy…I won’t have to save him
from that anymore. I can let go, free fall. It would be
so damn easy.
Cuz when you think about it, who in god’s name is
ever going to stop me?
Nobody.