Dear Friend:
They say the first part of solving any problem is admitting that there is a one.
But I can't see how that would help seeing how my parents are dead.
I can admit that there is a problem all I like.
It doesn't mean they'll come back.
I was helpless to stop it.
And eight months later here I sit: equally as helpless to do anything about it.
My therapist thought keeping a self documanted journal would help me sort out my feelings.
She says it doesn't matter what I put in it.
It takes the pressure off knowing I don't have to talk about my feelings.
Yet seeing how I'm constantly forced to talk about it to everyone, adding you to the list doesn't seem like it would make a difference.
My name is Barry Allen,
I am thirteen years old as of yesterday and I am already the tallest kid in my class. I am love with a girl who now lives six feet away from me. I enjoy science, I'll admit it seems to slowly be turning into a hobby.
This doesn't seem to be helping how the other kids in my school feel about me.
This summer has gone by so fast it's like it never happened.
Time can fly by all it wants, I'm still the same kid I was yesterday.
Having people celebrate your birthday even though your parents are dead doesn't change that either.
It just makes things worse.
Joe has been trying to get me to open up alittle more, to start acting normal. He claims he doesn't want me to pretend it never happened, but sometimes I have to think that's a lie. Sometimes it feels like he wants me to forget I ever had parents.
This isn't true.
I...I'm not crazy.
This seems sudden and out of place but it is true.
No one just ever wants to listen.
I'm not crazy, right?
You don't have to reply.
All I'm saying is my dad did not kill my mom.
And...I'm also saying that hearing people talk about it at school and around Joe...it kills me.
They think I don't hear them but I do.
What would you do Friend?
If nothing made sense anymore and all you had to hold onto was physically impossible.
How could it happen?
The older I get the more I begin to have self-doubts.
Like what if he really did kill her?
How could anyone believe that was possible?
It seems more unlikely than a yellow blur stabbing her to death.
They that sometimes bad things happen to good people.
Actually they say it happens to everyone but the world doesn't care whether you are a good person or a horrible one.
So what difference does it make?
It's getting harder to look myself in the mirror before school and say to myself, "it gets better."
I understand why I have to say this.
And why other people say it as well.
But it's not completely true.
I'm not trying to depress you or anything I'm only saying that there are good days and bad ones. But you can't lie to yourself and expect things to magically become perfect.
I think what they were really trying to say is...there will be good days. Even if your good days don't look like everybody else's...they're yours.
So, maybe tomrrow I'll get up in the morning, look myself in the eye and say, "There are good days."
I'll let you know how i turns out.
Your Friend,
Barry Allen