I must explain what the choppy handwriting was about, and yes, I am fully aware I should seek for help. Mrs. Harvey, a small old lady that happens to be a retired counselor and my landlord, said that if I couldn't think of anything to write just write about myself.
My name, my age, my occupation, etc, etc. All it really did was waste time, but time doesn't matter seeing as I'm either going to kill myself sooner or later. Ah... I shouldn't talk about suicide in this journal or else I'm going to me sent off to a hospital, hmm... Such a shame, such a shame.
I don't see why I shouldn't talk about it, and I don't see why I need to write in this journal. Mrs. Harvey can kick me out anytime, and I'll be happier in the filthy streets than this god forsaken apartment.
She wouldn't like that at all. She feels uncomfortable with the talk of suicide and death.
She needs to understand that you have to get these thoughts out before being back to normal, or else you lay wide awake in your bed feeling this pressure in your chest saying
"Do it
Do it
Do it
DO IT
DO IT
FUCKING DO IT!"
and then it all goes away. Tomorrow is Halloween's Eve, and on Halloween Mrs. Harvey would like me to pass out candy with her, because she cannot stand up for long with her walker. I feel pity for her, having her old and wise heart and mind worry for me.
This is why I should be better off dead.
Bonnie Gray
YOU ARE READING
August's Tears
General FictionRead through the tearjerking, depressing, and dark journal of Bonnie Gray Bonnie Gray is a young adult female who is now learning how to deal with her paranoia and depression by the help of her 74 year-old landlord Mrs. Fiona Harvey Read how these t...
