Sad Girl

eighteen - the journal

Song of the Chapter: The Way That I Am - Tove Lo

A/N: this is kind of a filler sorry

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CAMRYN's POV

"Camryn! It's good to see you again!" Mrs Hart exclaimed, placing her hand on my back and patting it gently. After that, she gestured towards the chair, inviting me to sit across from her in her office.

I tried cracking a smile, but I really wasn't too thrilled to be here. Did I seriously have to be in therapy? This was ninth grade all over again.

"So how is everything?" she asked, locking her fingers together over her desk. She stared at me expectantly, but what was I supposed to say?

I hated therapy. It was so hard. How am I supposed to talk to a random stranger about my problems if I can't even talk to my friends and family?

"Bad," I replied, shrugging. "Isn't that why I'm here?"

"What's bad? School? Friends? Family?"

"Everything," I replied.

I watched her scribble something down on the notepad in front of her. It was silent. All I could hear was the rain tapping on her window over and over again.

"Why do you think you're here, Camryn?" she asked, looking nowhere but my eyes.

I looked down at my jacket sleeves, pinching them with my thumb and index finger. "Because I can't talk to my mom."

"Why? Are you afraid?" Mrs. Hart picked up her pen, preparing to write down what I was about to say.

"I just don't think she'll understand."

Mrs. Hart nodded, then returned to the notepad.

"If you could tell her anything without worrying about her response, what would you tell her?"

I thought for a while. What could I say that wouldn't give too much away? Nothing. I couldn't say anything. And that was the problem.

Mom, everything is terrible. I feel like I'm trapped. Everything I say could be used against me. I'm sorry I'm not the daughter you've always wanted. I'm sorry I suck so much. I feel like just yesterday I was stuck in the hospital on suicide watch. You were so sad. I didn't mean to try and kill myself, I swear. I wasn't thinking straight. But maybe now I am, because now, I know I can't die, so I just slit my wrists instead. I know you don't want me to do that. You want me to be normal like everyone else, but I'm sorry. I can't be normal like Michael and Courtney. I can't even be myself.

"I'd tell her that I'm sorry," I said.

"Sorry for what?" Mrs. Hart asked.

Hey mom, remember Thanksgiving night when you asked me if I took my pills? I didn't take them. After you upset me, I talked to Courtney's friend Evan. He's a nice boy. We've been good friends since then, I guess. We kiss a lot. He likes touching my ass. He says I'm beautiful and I really like him. He says he wants to have sex with me and I think I'm gonna do it. Please don't be mad.

"I'd say sorry for being a bad daughter," I replied.

More writing. "And why do you think you're a bad daughter?"

Mom, I think dad hates me. He's the reason I started cutting myself again. I'm sorry. I feel like I just can't think things over when I do something, and now I can't stop. I'm starting to run out of space on my arms. Maybe I'll start fresh on my stomach or hips or thighs. I don't think I'll stop, not even for summer. I won't be able to go swimming. Oh well, I'm too fat to wear a swimsuit anyway. I'm sorry I'm not as skinny as Courtney and not as smart as Michael. I wish you still loved me as much as you love them, but I understand why you don't.