Dear diary,
My parents made me go to a therapist. My therapist made me start this journal. I'm not suicidal I promise.
What's the point of this thing? Get all my feelings out? I'm over here. Chillin. Like a villain. I'm cool, yo.
Okay that's over. Am I supposed to write about my week? Well, Finn's still an asshole. Wyatt and I aren't talking, and, by extension, neither are me or any of the losers. They think what I said was pretty stupid too.
I don't blame them. Reylynn slapped me again when she heard, "never defend a cheater," but her and Talia are still here. Good thing too, I'd be pretty pissed if they decided to leave me after ten years of friendship.
So. I'm chillin. Like a villain. I'm cool, yo. My cold dead heart currently just can't process any emotions other than that.
Dear diary,
It's been two weeks. I think I'm more mad than sad at this point. Let me explain.
Think of having...a pet rat. And you absolutely love that pet rat, and the people who sold him to you promise you over and over again that the pet rat won't bite you if you don't...feed him whatever he wants. So you go about your business, feeding your pet rat what you feel comfortable feeding him. Eventually, you feed him what he wants to eat. Just to test it out. Turns out, he was biting you all along and you liked having this pet rat so much you were desensitized to it. Secretly, he was off with another...rat owner, eating what he wanted to eat and he made a game out of it with his rat friends. And he bit you so much that you eventually landed in the hospital.
That's a terrible analogy.
At first you're sad that your beloved pet rat betrayed you like that but then you get angry and realize you're a bomb as fuck owner so you don't need him. You lose 90% of your rat owner friends, though, all because you tried to defend that stupid rat when you were sad. And now you're just mad at everyone except for the rat, but at the same time, you're mad at the rat the most.
I'm a fucking crazy person, pouring my heart out into a book because the cranky old lady thinks I'm suicidal because I cut in a bathtub. Get with the wave, man.
Dear diary,
I'm pissed. Bye.
I slammed the thin leather bound book shut, throwing it across the room. It hit the door and fell with a thud, which satisfied me. I needed to get my anger out, somehow, and violence always works, right?
I shoved my head into my pillow and screamed loudly. "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!"
Not having friends really took a toll on me.
Usually I would have just called Wyatt and ranted to him about my insignificant little mishaps, and he would've listened and made me feel better about it.
I mean, I only got caught up with Finn's friends. It wasn't a big deal. I just would've liked to talk to someone about it.
They finally let me go back to school after almost a month. I really wasn't looking forward to it, but I went.
The halls were empty, but they were still there. They're always there. It's almost as if they just bring sleeping bags to school and live there. They watched me, glaring. My hands started to shake as I did my combination and gathered all my books.
Their gazes eventually made me snap. "Do you have a problem?"
The girl in the front looked bored as she snapped her annoying bright bubblegum, getting up in my face. I gave her a look of disgust.
