Disclaimer: No ownage of Twilight for me……………………. *cry cry* *sob sob*
Bella Date: 2.21.10 Time: 12:30 A.M. All Hope Is Gone
Dear….Journal….No. Wait….Diary. Yes! Dear Diary. Okay. That is just gross. EVERYONE starts out as Dear Diary. Let's go with…. Um. Dear MAGICAL AWESOME PURDY Diary. Does that work? Okay. Yes. It does. Anyhow….
Dear MAGICAL AWESOME PURDY Diary,
I'm still here. Where? In a friggin' crazy house. Charlie. That trader. Let me first tell you everything that has happened before I start telling you everything that's happening RIGHT now.
I remember it perfectly, and my therapist said I shouldn't replay the day over and over again. I can't help it. I love him. It's the last thing I have of him. Last thing I have of myself as well. He also said that it doesn't really help me. What does he know? He knows nothing. NOTHING at all. Anyway, I remember it. Jasper had tried to eat me on my eighteenth birthday. God, if I didn't give myself a stupid papercut, none of this would be happening right now. I wouldn't even be writing. I would be sleeping in Edward's arms. Truthfully, I would take growing old and looking uglier but growing old with Edward than not having him at all.
After giving myself a paper cut, it was like he wasn't there at all. He was a former ghost of himself. Next thing I know, I'm being dumped.
"Promise me something."
"Anything."
"Don't do anything stupid and reckless. And I'll promise you something in return. This will be the last time you see me."
Bam. He was gone. He kept truthful to his promise. I had never seen him again. He took all my pictures. All my memories that I kept so close. God. How I hate him. But, god, how I love him. Looking at it this way though, I was lucky to even have him for that time. I knew someone like him. Someone like a God. Could EVER love someone like me.
Ever since that day, Charlie said I wasn't ever there. I wasn't moping, he said, I was emotionless. He compared himself to me. He said that he expected me to get over it in about a month. He said he was wrong. It was about five months after he left. Another two months past, and before I knew it, these people in suits busted through my classroom door and took me away. Did he really expect this to help me? If anything, it will make it worse.
So now, every day, I see a therapist. His name is Thomas. He was an old man with glasses, a clipboard always in hand, and with grey hair. He was nice enough but every time he tried to give me advice, I wanted to slap him across the face. I was also a never violent person. I hated violence. For some reason, without my knowledge, that changed. I don't try to be violent. Truly I don't. It just happens. When someone says something I dislike now, I lose control. It's like really bad impulses that control me. They say I turn beast. That's why, almost every minute of every day, expect Sundays (they say they want me to adapt without being on it) they give me something to calm me down and make me go half way into a happy place. I loved it. I think it is a real drug though, like, heroine because they shoot it into me and it's yellow. But are they even allowed to give illegal drugs?
Then again, the government doesn't really care. They just let them do whatever. Makes the people in here feel loved. I've been in this crazy house for about two months. A month ago they started me on the stuff. In the first month, I've actually struck my therapist, my group consoler, Charlie (when he ever bothers to come and visit me), and a couple people in here, just like me. I believe each person deserves it, but the owners and care providers don't think that way.
I also hear people talking about me. I never hear them say, "she's such a good girl!" "She is very fun to be around." "She's one of my favorite people." They are NEVER like that. Mostly, I hear them say, "She is crazy. Control her!" "I hate her. I wouldn't care if she died. Actually, I hope she does die." "Screw her. Hope she goes to Hell." Yes, that really raises my self-esteem, but now, I've become accustom to it and I don't mind. Actually, now it makes me smile. I find it hilarious.
Hold on. My therapist is coming. Talk to you in a moment.
Bella Date: 2.21.10 Time: 1:39 A.M. May I kill him?
Well, he just made my day. Looks like Charlie called Thomas and told him he found some poems of mine. It's not my fault that I like to write. Now a day, I can't write any love poems. So, I just write deep, dark, depressing poems. Charlie read my latest one to Thomas, my latest one I wrote before I ever ended up in here. Here is what it said:
The Time is passing slowly
As my hope is fading away
He went
And told me to Stay
Someday I'll find him
Someday I'll show him
How much hurt he has done
I wish he could see me
I really wish he could
He inflicted more pain
Then good
I know he did what he thought was best
I know it hurt him too
But now I'm not sure
Truthfully, I've had tons of time to think
Think about what I should do
Perhaps suicide?
End my misery?
But perhaps not
But I'm thinking about it
But until then and if I ever see him again
I swear I will kill him
With just one look
I'm hurt deep
And he needs to know how I feel*
Okay. The way I look at it, it isn't as bad as some of my other poems. I don't know why Charlie felt the urge to call Thomas up and read it to him. Obviously, Thomas felt it was important as well. I truly am getting really annoyed with Charlie. Does he even love me anymore?
Many people say a parent does what they do out of love. Is he really doing this out of love?
Once Thomas came in, this is how our conversation went.
"Hello, Isabella," he said, sitting down. With a flick of his wrist, he shooed away a security guard.
My tone was deadly as I slipped my MAGICAL AWESOME PURDY Dairy under my pillow. "It's Bella."
"Very well. Anyhow, Mr. Swan called me and told me you wrote poems. He read one of them to me. It was very interesting." He read the poem out loud. My face turned red with anger. What was Charlie doing in my room anyway? "Why did you think about suicide?"
"Why did you use a past tense verb?"
"So you still are?" He scribbled that down on his clipboard.
"I believe that is none of your business." Truthfully, I was never thinking about suicide. It was something to put in my poems. And it is honestly none of his business.
"I believe it is," he said, writing some more. Next thing I know, he put me on Suicide Watch Level type thing. I'm not sure what it is called because I wasn't really paying attention. He said if I moved to Level 3 or something, I would be moved out in the hallway so I can be watched 24/7. He said goodbye and left. They both annoy me so very much.
It also is very annoying that they won't let me decorate my own room. It is so plain. I can go without music but it would help right now to block out all my thoughts. All I have in my room is a bed, a closest to hang up my clothes, a clock, and a window with poles over it so I can't escape. The food sucks here as well. I lost weight. I was already under what I needed to be for an eighteen year old girl. I was 110 pounds, when I should have been around 160 or 170, but now I am 100. Anorexic much, right? I would agree.
So anyway, I'll check back in tomorrow. I have a lot of stuff to do tomorrow. At 10, I now have to go to my Suicide Watch program. It lasts for two hours, and then at 12:30, I have lunch, which I probably won't even eat. At 1, I have to see Thomas. It will be about a three hour session. At 4, Charlie is coming down to spend some time with me. Finally, at 7, I have a meeting with Thomas, Charlie, and some people from the board of peoples. I think they are going to see how my progress will be doing.
With all the love I have left,
I'm signing out
Will I ever be happy again?
That is something I doubt*
Signed,
Bella Swan.
* All poems are my own. Please do not take credit for them. They are not yours. They are mine.
So do you guys like this new story? Should I continue on?
