Untold Story

Sunday January 29
These days that have passed are getting really busy and my freshman year is officially insane. I was a little apprehensive, I guess about starting my year out at Hill High school. I know everybody there and all and my eighth grade year was really good. But I must admit I was nervous. But I was all right and everything just got a little bit more hectic.

Lets see…

Friday my doctor had messed up my contact order and I guess the only reason I remembered that is because my mom doesn’t think I am very responsible. And she got really mad at me. Like it was even my fault. Geez Chill. But she quickly got over it. I think. The rest of Friday was okay. Nothing really important happened. Jean called last night she told us that her mom wanted us to come over. We were scared a little bit because of the huge fight my mom and hers had about a month ago. Jean wasn’t allowed to be my friend on weekends and at night we weren’t allowed to chat, only at school. It was scary, our mom’s are insane. But it’s a step to hear that we were allowed to come over at all. And that Jean’s mom wanted us there. I really hope everything works out! I mean if God gave me Jean as a friend, then why would he spilt us up so harshly? I have a lot of unanswered questions about everything. Sometimes it gets me down. I could fake friends with this girl Sally I don’t like, because she and Jean are good friends. Then we could be around each other more often.
Well, I am getting sleepy.
My fortune from tonight’s dinner at Chop Chow will be my departure

“You shall be successful in everything you do”
Ha!
Emie

February 19 another Sunday in a month of Mondays and Tuesdays

I physically am not surviving. And when I am not doing well I can’t write in my journal. And don’t get me wrong I look fine no one would notice I’m not doing okay. But I really can’t take much more of this. I haven’t yet but I’ve had thoughts of becoming anorexic. But the thought of that would be no fun at all. People don’t plan anorexia. It just happens.
I’ve felt lately that I have no life at all. No life and no friends. I feel alone. I wish Jean could be here. But I don’t feel as though she wants to be my friend anymore. Something is wrong, and I don’t think it is really with her it’s with me. She is still my best-friend and just by seeing that down on paper I know it is true.
I have heard about people who cut themselves, and have though about cutting my self. But I have neither a razor nor an attractive wrist to cut on.
Nothing seems to be going my way. I feel sick like a cold or something and sick people get depressed, maybe I’m depressed. But when I think about that I’m the happiest person I know. People like me don’t get depressed, do they? Maybe I’m just paying to much attention to the ‘I-have-no-life’ situation. Dwelling is something I do often. I mean mostly my Saturday nights are spent by me sitting in a vacant restaurant and the people you sit with talk about nothing except moving to Boca. Actually Boca wasn’t really mentioned but Florida was and they are old. Same Dif.
To make things seem a little brighter I have no school tomorrow. Yepper!!! (Talk about trying to be enthusiastic and completely failing) I fail at everything. Everyone feels like this sometime, I keep telling myself over and over.
I remember a friend telling me she felt depressed... and she’s pretty upbeat. So I hope I’ll be fine.
I also keep dwelling on the last time I saw my father. Do you think he thinks of me? Do you think he knows I’ve turned fifteen? Do you think he loves me?
Alright I’m sick of writing. It’s making me sadder and sadder.

Em

February 21

I’m sick today. Being sick gives me a lot of time to think. (Ew!) I can’t remember thinking so much I think my brain hurts.
The whole thing with my mom and Jean’s mom is clearing up thankfully. It will be solved soon. She called today because she was alone. And wanted company. That shows something has to give.
It sucks though. When you feel better emotionally than you have in weeks. Physically you feel awful. This will speed it up.
I also thought of how alone I felt. Maybe I knew someone loved me. I want a guy. Blunt but true. Taylor has never really called me by my name, never said ‘Hey! Em!’ never uttered my name. I want the one who loves me to say my name. Like it means something. Other random guys do in choir, and else where. But that means nothing to them. I won’t be gong to school tomorrow. Another day to think just thrills me.
(Can’t you just hear the excitement in my tone?)
Bye for now,
E
March 10th (well...)
Spring Break is this week. And filled with little irks. I hate Irks. I’m okay…Mentally, Physically, but Emotionally I hate it. I have no idea what to think. Here is the goings on.
1) Taylor is alright.
2) Taylor is getting on my nerves.
3) Jean and I sorta none verbally made up
4) My social life is good.
5) I got a Library card
6) I still love him.
7) I signed up for the talent show.
8) Its spring break
Oh yeah I guess I just sorta had an epiphany and I realized I still loved Taylor. Whoa. Deep down inside I guess I do really want to be his girl. He doesn’t know of course. But maybe some day…
I want him to be with the real high school sweet heart of his…
EMILY
April 3rd Sunday (As far downhill as ever)
I am still very depressed. Afraid as well. Something is just so empty, so gone. I was sitting at my desk in my living room-dinning room area. Sitting and thinking. I took the stapler and took out one staple. I don’t even remember thinking about it and the only reason I remember it because of the little scratches on the inside of my wrists. I bent it ever so slowly ( by the way mother had left to go somewhere…) and scratched my wrists ten times. Scratched myself ten times. Ten times and cried none. That’s the worst part. I can’t cry. I want to cry forever, but the tears won’t come. I listen to my headphones full blast and drown out my mom, my cat, my world. I drown out my own pain. With physical pain and with reverberating sound. I have never been this sad, and no one understands. I also haven’t eaten in about two weeks and I’ve lost like fifteen pounds. The smiles and the laughs I fake around everyone, do nothing to help. And Jean only thinks of herself and thinks it’s because Taylor has been ignoring me lately. I know that’s not the reason why. But I couldn’t tell you what is. Jean says over and over ‘get over him’ and to ‘get over it’. Like its something I’ll just snap out of. I get mad when she says that really mad on the inside. I just nod though and agree. Like a little puppet that’s much tried of the dance he’s leaned.
Emily
April 8th
Taylor isn’t totally ignoring me anymore, I guess. We talked on messenger and beat around the bush of what was going on between us for about an hour. I officially cut my wrist this time. About ten minutes ago. I’m not messing around with the manicure scissors or the staple anymore. I took apart a shaver, and the anger in me that I didn’t know I even had in me came out in taking it apart. Then a couple minutes later I sat in my bathroom, the towel I had used this morning to dry myself forgotten on the floor next to me. I took the sharp object, firmly in my hand and slit. Literally slit my wrists. The trance I was in felt so calming so inviting. The blood rushing down my forearm gave me a strength I’d never felt before, or at least since I started feeling depressed. I am in control now. I can take emotional pain away with the flick of me hand and erase it with the physical. I, in a way am free.

April 15th (Sabbath)
Depression doesn’t even begin to come close. I don’t know what it is now that I am going through.
I am trying so hard to talk to Taylor, I need someone to talk to yet no one seems to care. Care about me. I might pull away, I hate to do it. But I need to do something to get him to miss me. I will always love him, a part of everyone love their first true love. I think he might be mad at me.
Anyways, I still cut. I did a really deep one and it hurts. A releasing hurt nonetheless. I have to hide them, long-sleeved al the time even though it is summer soon. Last count there was fifty one maybe. I worst part is that emotionally I don’t feel anything anymore. No pain. I ‘m not happy but I am not sad either. Numb. I feel emotionless. I can’t call Taylor that would not be good.
I feel Very sleepy…
Emily

May 5 Sabbath
I realized that inside is still dark and all. Very Very dark. That I just might cut again. I shake uncontrollably. Withdrawal shaking. It will not go away. I will wear a mask. Even to myself.
Lily noticed my cuts. I will not tell anyone else.
Something is wrong. Besides being very tired I am scared. Very Very scared.
E
May 12 Friday night
“Now I will tell you what I’ve done for you
Fifteen thousand tears I’ve cried.
Screaming, Deceiving, and bleeding for you.
You still won’t hear me. I’m going under.
The song says exactly what I feel right now. I don’t know who or the what. But the rest is clear. I am slowly dying inside. I don’t know what or who caused it. And I wish beyond all hope I could make it go away.
I want to ask Lily. She told me she used to cut she understands. She says she knows what I am feeling. I want to know what got her through it. She’s been there. Past tense.
EM
May 16,
Today was a better day than yesterday. And Monday was especially better. Than Mothers Day-Sunday. Monday was better because I found a new place to cut. My sides. None can see ad my wrists can heal.
July 16
Yesterday was Sabbath. We went (normally) to church. Then we went to the mountains. Today we did nothing. I watched a movie, played on the puter and listened to music. I guess I’m going on because this is my last entry, in any journal.
I normally leave pages blank because of my separation between the reader and me the author. Now they symbolize the separation between me and me. I hate who I am. I hate myself. More than anything.
Emily
A random scrap of paper, not dated. Folded five times.
I hurt more often than inside than physically, but the physical pain is meant to erase the emotional pain. Right? Nights when I feel alone, I go upstairs into the bathroom…. And erase the emotional pain. I knew my wrists had to heal. And they did. Fast, There are scars left behind. But the deep ones reside on my heart. Now my sides. My sides are lined with red lines. I’m not as immune to the pain on my sides as I was on my wrists.
Why, I do it isn’t a question anymore I know why. I hurt; I know what drove me to it. The pain the empty hurt caused. And there is no room for anything else. No hope for anything to take its place. It has to work. It has to work soon. Something has to work. To give way. Because I can’t breathe. I can’t cry.

Does the cutting help? No. Not really. It distracts me. It helps not remind me every second of every day that I am nothing and no one. And no one cares.
I saw it in friends’ eyes, once. But only once.
What drove me too it is still unanswered. And a long story to tell an untold story. A story no one wants to listen to…. One I’ve lived and the others have only dreamt. It’s lonely. It’s sad. It’s a part of me that no one wants to accept. To sit and listen to.