~completed~ "She drew with the colored pencils even though the only thing in her brain was a blank page. She wanted everybody to believe that she was as vibrant as her art. I was a dead soul in the body of a youth. I would have cried if I was strong...
"Give me your phone", My father said. Wow, a petty little fight with Jessie had stripped my means of communication away in an instant. Texting was usually the only way of communication that I used. He knew that I wasn't going to call anybody if I had a choice in the matter; so he cut off my way of communication. I was crushed. I told myself, "This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This isn't happening." I had become so depressed with my life that the only way I could get through my daily life, was to talk to my best friend. He actually cared. He didn't shrug off my emotions like they didn't matter. He wanted to help me get through the daily grind. He wanted a better life, as did I...
My father didn't seem to understand how I felt. I felt dead inside, like I had nothing to live for. David gave me a reason to live. He needed someone to have his back, and I swore that I would be that person. I wanted to help him, because he had been there for me when it seemed that nobody had my back.
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Becoming more and more depressed everyday, I wondered if life was really worth it. My grades went down. Every time I opened one of my knives, I told myself that a little cut wouldn't do much. Every time I reached for food, I hesitated and wondered if eating was really worth it. My conscience contradicted all of my other thoughts with one reasoning, "If you die, then what will happen to David? To my best friend Selena Briggs? To my family? To my 4-H club? To my church? To my community?"
They would be heartbroken because of one decision that seemed like the only solution, but wasn't.
I couldn't take life anymore! I had always struggled with math ever since I had been a small child. It never made sense, but I didn't ever say anything because I didn't want the teacher or any of my friends to know how stupid I was. Geometry was a daily struggle. I usually stayed up until twelve o'clock in the morning doing my homework. I spent seven hours and fifteen minutes at school every weekday, yet I never necessarily learned anything. I took around five hours to complete my homework. I felt like nothing was worth it.
One particularly bad week, nearing the end of the school year; I didn't know how to do my geometry homework, so I tried doing it by myself. I ended up in tears, turning into Hulk, yelling, ripping up my notes, and hurling my math book across the room. This happened three days in a row. My mother could see that I didn't want to go to school, so she kept me back. I told myself that it wouldn't hurt to try one more time. Boy, was I wrong! It hurt a lot! My lungs felt like they were getting ripped from my chest as the asthma kicked in. The tears were uncontrollable. I rocked back and forth, sitting on the floor on my closet with the door closed. My book on the floor.
I knew that I shouldn't, because my communication was taken away; but I needed to. I emailed David, "Could you pray for me?"
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