Hurt {Clifford}

Their Guns Are Useless Against The Dark Abyss

Journal Entry 8

I'm sinking into that hole again.

That dark abyss that I try and try again to climb out of.

But my hands always slip as I try to crawl up the slimy walls that surround me.

No, I didn't speak to Kasandra today if that's what you're thinking.

Emma and I have become friends over the past few weeks and every time we hang out I feel like my stomach erupts in butterflies at her small smiles and her general happy energy, I feel like putty in her tiny hands and she is molding me into her own creation; but I'm ok with that.

I asked her out on a date today and she said no.

Not in a rude way, she said it in the happiest and sweetest way possible.

She stuttered over her words and turned red but for some reason I didn't feel sad.

I was mad.

Mad as hell.

I felt as if she had just swung at me with a bat and called my mother a fat whore.

I just said, "Ok, bye." And speed-walked away.

I don't think this journal is working.

It isn't helping me "get to know myself" or "Helping me get in touch with my inner self"  it's just making me mad.

And now that I'm writing everything down I can just read it over again and feel what it's like to be rejected again.

Mom wants me to get better but I just can't.

I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

Today, I bought a gun.

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DUN DUN DUUUNNNNNNNNN