Dear Fay

She Saved Me

It was March or April, freshman year. ((This was Marissa's first semester that she took off.)) This isn't a happy memory, or time in my life, so I tend to try to block these kinds of things from my memory. I'd planned this for weeks. I'd taken a roll of gauze downstairs when you weren't home. I would shower when you weren't home looking at the razor, holding it to my wrist, trying to—to do something, anything. Then when I couldn't I would fall to the ground in my shower, my back pressing against the pipe. Crying, feeling weak because I couldn't do it. I was weak. I then tried with a knife when no one was home. It was to no avail, I couldn't do this either. I felt hopeless. I wanted nothing more than to die. Why couldn't I do this? I deserved to. After all, they were right, I killed Aunt Kateri. I blamed myself for when I was sick and went to go record videos of her. When I had a cough and left. I blamed myself. It was my fault. I brought in the germs that brought on her pneumonia, ultimately killing her. Then, I don't know where Marissa was. But I'd asked her if my razor could slit skin, she said no and then I asked if hers could and she responded yes, because it has two or more blades. So, she went to go to LA or something and so I went into her bathroom and retrieved the razor from her shower. That night I was going to try to cut or commit suicide. I didn't care which. I was just in so much pain. I wanted it to stop. I wanted to feel— feel something. I just wanted it to stop. So, I went to school I went to art and throughout the day I talked to this girl, who I actually never thought I'd get close to. She was a spitfire as people often call people like that. She had fiery red hair and reminded me of popular girls from middle school, but she wasn't like that at all. I told her how I feel and she told me something that I thought no one could do. She said this, when I felt ignored, uncared for, unimportant. "Isabelle I care, I'd care if you died, I would cry if you died. I care." I never thought I could have this affect on someone who lives 2,000 miles or more from me. How could she love me? She'd never met me. How could she care? How could she love me? I didn't understand. But somehow she did. And I loved her.

~*~

There was a time when a criminal was being chased on the freeway, we almost got in a car crash, but you stopped that from happening. I wished that happened and that I got the majority of the impact so I could die or something. I didn't want to be alive anymore. I wished I was dead. I wished it happened. But, I didn't want you to be hurt.

~*~

I'm always depressed and anxious now and I've started to get used to it. I don't remember what it feels like to not feel anxious or depressed. When I sing it doesn't mean I'm happy. I don't have to be happy to sing. I can be anxious and smile and it will be true. I can still be depressed but be happy in the moment. We never fixed the problem with school. I'm still unhappy. I still consider skipping meals because it's my fault, if I told you earlier I could've transferred. When it comes around to it all the blame is towards me. And although I don't want to die anymore, I do want to feel something. I want to feel an emotion because sometimes I just feel so lonely and empty inside. Seeing Julia is going to be like healing for me. I know who I am around her. I don't feel like I need to decide. I can be my true self. I know I can. It's different, I don't know how to explain it.. You may now be wondering why I typed this. These are just a few memories and I don't like to delve into and writing or typing this rather brings back horrid memories and horrid thoughts that I'd rather have them stay at the back of my mind. Writing on paper is rather sensitive and I couldn't handle it. This is why it's typed. Thank you for reading. There are more things that I still haven't told you probably. But those will come out with time. Thank you for taking the time to read this.