Dear this abhorrent, horrid, journal,
Well, since my parents pretty much abandoned me in the psych ward in the hospital, I might as well make your acquaintance. Well, where to start. This first week has been horrible. My parents are making me stay here because I am "too aggressively depressed." I would disagree but I don’t have the shots on this and I am forced to stay here. I have to see a therapist, Linda, every day at 3 o'clock. To be honest, she looks like she was in my situation at some point in her life. You can tell she has healed up piercings on her nose and eyebrow, she dyes her hair black, and told me she used to dress quite like I do. I look quite normal I think. I wear colored clothes and everything. I did dye my hair black, but only because I thought it was cool. And I do happen to have a few piercings here and there. Every session starts out the same; "Well Emily, how are you doing today?" I answer the same every day. "Okay."
She makes me draw out my feelings because "it will help me show other people how I actually feel." I think that is absolutely ridiculous and the way she says it is full of spurious zeal. But I do it anyway. She tells me to draw what I feel today. I always draw a black X. She always asks what it means. Well, honestly, I truly don’t know. It's just what I feel like. Maybe it means happy, maybe it means sad, depressed, planning my own death. It could mean a lot of different things. But I have no idea. I'm very confused lately about who I am and what I am doing. I never really knew anyway. Emily is just an unwanted virtue among other people.
Well, I guess it is kind of my fault I'm here. I stepped into oncoming traffic. I wish I was dead right now. But of course they had to try and revive me. Which they succeeded in. When my parents found out I had attempted it, automatically, "psych ward." They act as if they are shocked I would want to. They sit there and make abhorrent jokes about how I am over dramatic and need to start being happy. It's just not that easy when you feel alone.
It all started when all my friends started disappearing. I had a good group of friends. I had a group of people I sat with at lunch, a boyfriend, and was a pretty well liked person. But because my parents hate me, they made me move to the next town over, which was notorious for people smoking pot and being ridiculous towards one another. I thought I would fit in quite well there actually. I was really outgoing and loud. Well, that was a real shock in the first few weeks when I got put down for being loud and trying to talk to people. And now, lo and behold, I am a pit of depression and hate myself with a passion. That’s what happens when you get rejected from society.
I have no access to a phone or computer so I basically am blocked off of the world. When I do watch TV they are always in the room making sure I am not watching, "mature content shows" when in reality I am watching Dance Moms repeats.
There are other people here too. Most of them isolate themselves from everyone else but there are a few that talk. There is this one guy that looks at me quite often. He always gives me this smirk and sometimes he looks like he is going to get up and come and sit with me, but then he stops himself and sits himself back down and doesn't make much eye contact. I think his name is Kendal. He has dark brown hair and is quite tall and muscular. He looks as if he would be a pretty happy guy. I can't tell what's going on with him, but oh well.
Well, that’s all for today abhorrent journal. Maybe tomorrow I will give you a name. Maybe a name like Liam or Mel. I'll decide.
Yours truly,
Emily Maycaster
