(ⅸ) More About Me

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It was the very next day after what Ernest did to me last night. I was in my bed thinking about something.

The question Eddie asked me about the pocket knife stuck to my head.

The reason I had that thing in my pocket is because I've been very suicidal lately. All those names I've been called, all those times where kids at school bullied me due to my skin color, all the times where I was getting worse than that at home and I still am... I couldn't take it. So I started cutting myself everywhere, but mostly my arms. That's why I always wear a jacket or something long sleeved.

Other than cutting, I hide pills in my bathroom. I hope that one day I'll be brave enough to put so many of them in my mouth and wait for death. I can't stand to live another year with all this bullshit going on.

Ernest and Olivia don't understand how much I struggle, Henry and his friends don't understand, Greta and her friends don't understand, the other kids at school don't understand, the people in town don't understand, and it's all their fault. It's not like they would care, anyway.

Just because I'm a walking, talking, and breathing black girl that happens to live in a place filled with mostly whites, why can't they give me a chance? Why don't they understand that MLK didn't die for this? He didn't die so racism can still exist while he's up there watching us. This is highly injustice.

The year of 1989 is just a load of shit.

Besides, I didn't want the 'Losers Club' to know the real reason I had it. My personal issues shouldn't really be their concern. They haven't gotten my trust yet.

That's me. June, the girl whose life could possibly get worse as she grows up. Well... that's if I want to. Hopefully the only seven friends I have can change my mind and help me have the greatest summer of my life.

"WELCOME TO THE LOSERS CLUB"  ▶ MIKE HANLON ◀Where stories live. Discover now