Story Of Another Me

The Beginning

Dear Stranger,

My therapist told me to write about what I feel but I don't just want to fill a diary with my thoughts. I want to share them. But it's kind of impossible for me to share what I'm thinking about, I can't even share my thoughts with my therapist. So here we go.

When I was younger I asked my father about the day I was born. It was a sunny and beautiful day, he said, just like me. Back then I never thought a lot about it, but time went on and now I have this theory that there was supposed to be a thunderstorm but the storm took the wrong way and now nearly 16 years later it's still raging on. But that's not enough. The thunderstorm slowly becomes a hurricane.

I also remember he said that, every year, my birthday always was a sunny and warm day. It was my 14th birthday when he said so. It was the first time that it was raining at my birthday. The next year it also rained. It never rained until my 14th birthday. It is ironic cause the last time I was happy was my 13th birthday.

I already came to the solution that living is no solution. I wrote a suicide letter. Not just one I wrote a few. And I am thinking, I am thinking so much, I cannot focus on anything else. The voices in my head become louder and louder each day.

I try not to think to much about it, but I already started destroying myself and my body years ago.

There are people who don't have a body anymore. I should be happy with the life I live. I have enough to eat, a home, I'm allowed to go to school. But it does not make me feel better, all it does is making me feel guilty because I have everything but I am still not able to be happy.

I feel lonely. So, so lonely. I started reading more and more. I have always been reading a lot but in my 13th year of age I nearly drowned in books. I don't read the books. I almost eat them.

I also started a routine.

1) Wake up

2) Don't start crying

3) Go to school

4) Pretend everything is okay

5) Go home

6) Do you homework (Or not)

7) Read, eat, sleep and repeat

I started hating school. I get annoyed by everything and everyone. I don't like to study, I waste my time with stuff I don't like. I don't want to learn what a vector is. I don't want to learn about religion. I'm agnostic. Religion will never help me in life. I don't want to know what the latin word for „building" is. I don't have to know how to draw a corncob.

I don't care.

I couldn't care less.

But in school I have to know things like this. And it drives me crazy how everyone acts like they need perfect grades. There are so many problems in this world. When you care if you get a A or A- for your essay, or even worse when you start crying because you got the A-, like that blonde girl in german class, then you never experienced real problems before. You don't know how it feels to deal with a bereavement, a fucked up family or mental health problems. I'm sure you grew up with a perfect family, you go to a perfect school and your biggest problem is how to eat chewing gum with braces. I go to school where you never ever get bad grades or into trouble when your parents are lawyers or have a doctor title. Everything is funny when mummy and daddy kind of buy your grades.

I go to a school where teachers call me a lazy ass when I forget my homework once.

Yours sincerely,

Casta