Days go on. Pain continues. People leave. Change happens, and we cant do anything about it. Life goes on. But i just want it to stop for just a moment. when I write in here, life stops. For just a moment. I think I'm probably going to change schools, i don't know when though. I talked to dad just a little bit about it. I would have moved already if mom was still here. I wish she was. I would be talking to her instead of writing in here. I would be hugging her instead of using a blade. She would dry my eyes when I cry. I miss her more than anything. I wish she was here rite now. I haven't cut in a few days. I don't consider it "clean" though. I consider "clean" when your pain is gone. Mine isn't close to being gone. I think I would be just fine if I had one friend. I don't actually know what a friend is. I think it is someone who stands up for you and is always there for you, someone you can tell anything to. When I think of that as a friend, I think of my mom. I guess the only friend I've ever had was my mom. But shes gone now. So I have no friends. I don't want to be the popular girl, who is friends with everyone. But I also don't want to be the girl who has no friends. I just want two or three friends. Then I would be the happiest person ever.
Folding the paper, I stand up and walk over to my book shelf. I slide my folder out of between two books and slide the folded paper into it. I reach to put the folder back between the books and a piece of folded paper falls on the floor. I sit in my floor and set the folder down. I open the paper.
Umm.. hey? Do you hate me yet? Everyone else does. Dad made me go to the second therapist today. It was awful. She's the worst one yet. All she tried to do was pry into my personal life. I didn't tell her about me writing in this. If I did, she would make me show it to her and let her read it. i don't know what i would do if she read this. They would probably say im worse than they think i am. Today a girl said I wasn't pretty and I should die. I never thought of dying before. I just thought I had to live the life that I live. Would it be better if I actually did die? I started cutting my arms and legs more. I don't know why, I used to do it like once a week or once every other week. But lately I've been doing it every other day. It makes me feel better. And blood is my favorite color. And that is the only way i can see it. I don't know how dad hasn't noticed the scars on my wrist. I've done my best to hide them, but he's my dad, he should have known anyway, rite? or does he even care enough to notice? I found the band black veil brides today. I absolutely LOVE them so much. And I love Andy a lot. He's the lead singer of the band. I think I should get some sleep now. I like sleeping. It lets me dissapper for a couple hours. Good night.
I take a deep breath. I remember when I wrote this. Three years ago. I was 13 years old. So young, so innocent. I fold the paper back and put it in the folder. After putting the folder back, I find the blank canvas, that I talked my dad into getting me, and hang it low on the wall. I go over to my nightstand and pull out paint. Sitting in front of the canvas, I start to paint.
