I started writing recently, well I guess that's not completely true I've always kept a diary, but recently, after they died it's one of the few things I do. I'm still going to school, trying to put on a brave face for my mom and even trying to smile with Amy and Paul, but I know they can see through my mask. My mom looks on in worry not sure how to respond, she's never had to deal with anything like this I've always been so optimistic, even when my dad left, I stayed strong, which is why I can tell she's terrified to watch me break. Amy and Paul watch on trying their best to help, help me to heal or keeping from breaking completely I'm not sure, I don't really think they are anymore either. Then there are my classmates, people I never really knew, but knew all about and who knew all about me. They watch on in morbid fascination as I start to crack and fall apart, not even trying to help, just content to watch me slowly break and fracture until I am completely shattered.
But then theres Alek and I can tell he's breaking too. Just as completely and thoroughly as I am, even if I am the only one that can see it happening. I suppose Jasmine or Valentina probably would have been able to tell, but I guess if they were here to tell he was breaking he probably wouldn't be breaking at all. His "friends" at school don't notice, they don't notice that he doesn't smirk anymore and all of his comebacks are only half hearted, if he bothers with one at all. And it's ironic really how none of our classmates no either of us at all because I'm an outsider and Alek is a jock so nothing could possibly be wrong with him. Sometimes I wish that I could be as ignorant as they are and believe that Alek Petrov had the perfect life, that tonight I could open my window and let him in and he would let me cry on his shoulder until I wasn't quite as broken, sometimes I wish that Alek could save me. And I know he wishes he could save me too. But we both know it won't happen, because he can't save me when he's breaking himself.
And I know someday it will get better and I'll eat without being forced to, and sleep will occur for more than twenty minutes at a time before I'm violently awoken by a nightmare. Someday I will heal. Someday we both will. But right now, sitting here at three A.M. writing we are both shattered.