A Steakhouse (Swan Queen)

A Week Before Orientation

Blue, is the best way to put how I'm feeling. It's easier to categorize by colors, rather than a description of words. I feel blue a lot, it's mellow with a hit of sadness. I find it sleepy and a cold somber. My favorite writing utensil is a mechanical pencil, my favorite part is the clip that breaks off extremely easy. I like using that part against my fair skin, attempting to relieve the pain that's eating my insides. I also like rubber bands and the welts form atop my wrists. I really don't understand how it makes me feel better, it just does.

I like writing about overdosing on pills in a poetic form, so I never attempt to. I love poetry, you can be writing about one thing, but it doesn't need to be said directly. When I'm home alone, I find it easier to put my hand out for the pills, that's why I never try to be home. It's not that I want to die, I'm just tired of the demons that scratch my back and they like to remind me that I'll never be happy, that I'll never be good enough for anyone or anything. I am a worthless piece of crap. Some days I find myself feeling more of a black, rather than a blue; black is is grieving, mourning, wallowing, dying.

Today, I find myself in the hospital, on suicide watch. Mom and Dad are next to me, quiet as ever. I've failed them, like usual. I don't ever do anything right, I'm a failure, to the family, and to myself.

"Honey, I'm sorry, I've failed you as a father." Dad keeps saying to me, "I just want you to be happy, your happiness means everything to me."

I can't say anything, he never says this to me, he's always away, he's never home; and if he is home, he's sleeping, or drinking beer and watching some football. I used to love football, but it came too much with him. I used to play football and he was treacherous with it, that I simply just quit.

I honestly feel like I'd be better off dead. I wouldn't be a burden on anyone, one last thing someone has to worry about. I just don't know what to do anymore, I'm just a waste of space. I'm worth nothing; I don't deserve to take another breath.

Sorry for a small update. I thought getting a little background information on Emma would be good. There might be a few more backs like this, that'll show Emma before she started working at Steakhouse.