The Degradation

Harry's Diary #7

Song: Violon - My Silent Cry

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I don't understand, I don't understand why he didn't leave. I don't understand why he's still here. Why didn't he leave me? But at the same time, I don't want him to leave me. I was afraid, I felt lost.

All these things are around me... drugs, blades. Alcohol. They helped me forget myself.

I didn't want to see him put up with me. And I just decided to relieve him of this burden.

His voice... I heard him. He was there every day. I wanted to talk to him and tell him that he didn't have to stay here, but I couldn't. Something stopped me. Everything is so messed up in my head. Why does he love me? How is it possible that he's in love with me? Nothing makes sense. I'm trying to understand, but everything is so confusing. I try to understand myself I try to understand what is going on in my head but I am lost. There are too many thoughts, too many complicated things. My fingers hurt, and it's hard for me to write.

He wasn't there when I opened my eyes, there was no one in the room.

I can't stand the smell here and the doctor who wants to get inside my head. All the time I miss Asshole. I miss my room, I want to get out of the hospital, but I'm afraid. At least here I can't do anything wrong.

Dad came by. I couldn't even open my eyes. I didn't want to see the disappointment in his eyes.

I dreamed of a cemetery. But I don't want to die, I don't want to be buried. I don't want people to come to my grave. I don't want Louis to spend his nights in the cemetery as I do. I don't want anyone to bring me flowers on my grave.

I'm thirsty, my throat hurts so much I'm thirsty. I feel like my lungs are being compressed and my stomach is so contracted that it hurts. The middle street lamp is still not on, it is the only one that is off. Why don't they fix it? They may think that it is not useful, that the others illuminate the parking lot enough. It's not fair, he has the right to shine too. I look at it every night, it's always black. If I switched off too it wouldn't matter, other people would be there to replace me. He brought me this pen this morning, he knows it's the pen I write with most often. He knows me so much so why does he still love me? There is nothing in me up to it, I do not deserve it. I do not deserve anyone and no one deserves to have in their lives a burden like mine. I don't want to go to the group therapy, I don't want to hear them talk, I don't want to know what they went through, I don't want to know their story, I don't want to tell them about mine. I don't want to be with them, I don't want to be like them.

I do not know why I am writing this. I don't know anything. I feel empty. I don't understand anything. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.