Disclaimer: Timberline Knolls is a real treatment facility, but I have no association with it. I have only used it for a name of the place she's in. It is the only treatment facility I know.
Day 9
I feel like I've been in here forever. The days seem long, and I just want out. I guess you'd think I'd try to get better so I could leave. But the thing is, I don't want to get better. I just want someone to tell me that I don't really need to change. I know I'm not perfect; I never will be. How many times do I have to be here to know that? I can't be fixed.
Day 11
I remember the first time I was here. Dad had found me unconscious on my bedroom floor, burns from hot candle wax on my arms. The pain was so intense that I blacked out. He called 911, and after I was stabilized in the hospital, they redirected me to Timberline Knolls. They had bandaged my arms up, and then I was locked inside my gray, boring room. There were no windows, I noticed. I guess they had to put people like me in rooms where we couldn't hurt ourselves. I fell asleep after that, and I didn't wake up until the next morning. I haven't spoken a word since.