too young for this { harry styles }

Chapter 14.

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Ivy's P.O.V

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People suck. Did you know that?

I'm sure you did, everyone knows I suppose.

Laughing scares them.

I roll my eyes and ask for more medication.

It's not like they can refuse.

I just tell them that I feel like killing myself and they give me more.

I get out soon.

Maybe today, I really don't know.

Everyone here is crazy and the happiness is wildly depressing.

Three weeks ago a girl drowned herself in the pool here, I guess you could say they aren't doing a very good job.

Everythings scheduled here.

We all wake up at 6:30 and get ready for the day.

Then they make us all gather in a circle and talk about how its okay to eat food. After that we all eat some kind of breakfast . (I'm not allowed to not eat so I somehow manage to go into the bathroom alone and vomit all of that shit up)

They make me take various types of pills because of all of the stuff I have wrong with me.

I'd tell you that 6 months in a rehabilitation center was helping my psychological problems, but I'd be lying.

If anything, its made me worse.

I don't really hate myself anymore, though. I think I put all the hate in me towards everyone else in my life.

I hate Julia for calling an ambulance, I'd rather be dead in hell than live in hell. The bitch also never visits me. Ha. I hate my mother for getting married without me at the wedding and without my permission. I hate Sam for paying for me to be in this place. Apparently he's some president of some company and it annoys the hell out of me. When I get out I'm probably going to have to go to some fancy school and do whatever they want me to do.

I hate that. I hate this.

But most of all, I hate Harry.

He left me.

Well, I broke up with him but he didn't have to leave the damn band!

Does he even understand how many fans he once had? He broke their hope of anything happy to ever happen in the world.

I bet he found out that Jeff blackmailed me too. That just makes me even more angry.

I'm so glad that Harry is out of my life, and being glad about anything isn't a normality to me anymore. I don't think it ever was, really.

The only thing in this unfortunate world that I don't happen to have a burning hatred for is music.

I like to write songs, as well as journal entries, now.

Sam had brought me my guitar about 4 months ago on one of his oh so step fatherly visits.

One time Felicity tried to take it from me and I think I yelled at her for an hour. Oh well, she's just some crazy girl who tried to commit suicide.

Oh wait. We're all crazy like that here.

Most of them are starting to be okay. But I'm the worst.

I never do anything anyone says except for take medicine and tell them that "I'm okay."

They think I'm fixed, but to hell I'm not.

They think they can just lock me in this weird house and tell me how I'm supposed to love myself and that I'll be okay.