Dear Journal,
I feel like I'm dying, and am being dragged into hell. Since my freak out, I just...I haven't felt right. They stuck me in the locked ward, and all I have is you and a pen I snuck under my shirt.
My heart won't stop pounding in my ears, and all I can hear is the blood gushing. It's twisting my stomach to the point I've thrown up many times in here. The ward put me on some drug that's supposed to help me calm down, but all it is doing is making me feel like bugs are crawling under my skin, and I can't take it anymore.
I'm stuck.
I'm not getting visits as long as I'm in here, I was told more than one by the staff and nurses. Told me to gain control, not let these dark spots blind me...I can't help it.
Maybe I'm just crazy, yeah. That has to be it. That's why I'm here. I'm here because I tried to kill myself. But why...? Was it the anger I had for my family, swallowed by my depression? Or was it that I was too selfish of my own feelings to realize, the world around me isn't going to stop and wait for me...and I didn't like that. I don't like that.
Kendall must be upset with me. Really upset. I don't know why he loves me, theres nothing to love.
I have looks...so what. Doesn't mean I'm all butterflies and rainbows like my character stands to be as...He must be hurt.
Hurt that I kept these things to myself, how I never told him what I was feeling...That doesn't matter anymore. I'm trapped in this ice box, frozen by my fear, and indefinite suffering..
I don't know what else to say...other than I want to go home.
Sincerely,
James
