I wrote this for my English class. We had to write a paper on Loss, and this is mine.
6 Months
January 21st 2011
Dear Diary,
I'm finding it hard to even write this, but I made a promise to the shrink and to my mom that I would. So here goes nothing...
Last month, on the 21st of December 2010 I lost a part of my life and a piece of my heart. My dad died in a car crash. It was a drunk driver. It was reckless,stupid and destroyed more than just one life that night. I hope whoever it was rots in prison.
February 21st 2011
Dear Diary,
It happened again today. My wrists itch now. I know dad wouldn't approve, that he'd be so disappointed in me, but it just became too much! And I became too numb. It was the only thing I could think of doing that would make me feel something. Anything.
mom's worried about how much food gets left on my plate at the end of dinner. I'm just not hungry any more. I'm not anything anymore.
March 21st 2011
Dear Diary,
These bandages are so irritating! My neck is so sore. Forever marked with scars, imprinted with a rope pattern. Everything just happened to fast! One minute I was admiring how pretty the blood looked as it droned down my arm, next I was kicking the chair from beneath my feet.
I can't decide if it's a good thing or not that mom walked in at that moment. On the one hand I just wanted to be free, you know? But on the other I'm the only thing she has left.
Looks like death is just as confusing as life.
April 21st 2011
Dear Diary,
Well it's safe to say that I'm not allowed in the tool cupboard any more. And I have to use wax as an alternative to shaving. Mom doesn't trust me with razors now, not that I blame her. Its probably for the best anyway. Self-harming can be like a drug, but the only way to stop is to quit cold turkey.
I have to take off the bandages from round my neck now. It'll be the first time I've had the guts to assess the damage I'd done since the nurse first put the bandages on. Not that I was conscious for that anyway.
May 21st 2011
Dear Diary,
Just a few more days of this now. Just a few more finals. A few more dirty looks and not-so-subtle hushed words, hissing venomously about my darks times. It won't be long now. I leave this soon. I'm going to college far away from anyone I know, so I can start anew and not be surrounded by the viciousness of high school.
Deep breaths Bumble Bee. That's what dad would say when he saw me getting all worked up. Deep breaths Bumble Bee. Deep breaths.
June 21st 2011
Dear Diary,
18. Eighteen. That's how old I am today. I didn't think I'd even get to see this day. And that's not even the weirdest thing. My aunt from England sent me a scratch card and I won £48 on it... 48 is how old dad would be today.
I thought today would be harder, but I'm doing okay. Mom's proud. She doesn't out worldly say as much, so not to set either of us off I think, but I can see it in her eyes. The sparks back.
It's good to be able to talk to her again, to eat again and not feel guilty. To not need to seek relief in pain.
It's good to be free again...