harry,
i wish that i never met you. i wish that you had never set foot into that library on rodgers lane, i wish that you had never laid eyes on my denim shorts, i wish that you hadn't stricken up a conversation with me. and i wish more than anything, that i hadn't been so stubborn and naive as to argue with you about my beliefs. because nothing would've been able to change your mind, anyway.
when i was nine years old, i started seeing things that nobody else could see around me. i thought that i had a super power, and told everyone at school that i was different. they didn't believe me, but who would? i know i'd be skeptical about a weird girl talking about dead boys behind you and blood seeping out of wounds on your head.
mum thought that i was going through a phase that i would eventually grow out of, and my dad thought that i was putting it on for attention. i grew up in a family where my siblings all had different talents, and i had yet to discover mine. my older brother could play the guitar, and had the most angelic voice you would ever hear. my sister was a maths and science genius, and my other sister was so achingly beautiful that it hurt to look at her. i was the weird outcast, so i started making things up to gain attention off my parents like my siblings got.
as i got older, they got worse. i'd start to hear things, nasty and horrible things that would make my day terrible. they'd be voices telling me to kill myself, expressing their opinions of things that didn't necessarily concern them, like my weight and what i was wearing. i'd be constantly insecure because of the monsters inside my head. that's what my mum called it, because she didn't want people around town getting to know about her strange daughter.
at thirteen, my grandma made the decision to take me to the doctors. she said that if my parents didn't care, she had the right to step in. they examined me, but couldn't quite find the answer as to what was wrong with me.
they referred me to a psych ward, because my problems obviously laid deep inside my mind. they ran a couple of tests, and to cut a long story short i was diagnosed with schizophrenia and depression. they gave me medication to help calm it down, yet drilled into my mind that i would never get better.
when you twisted their words, you could make out like they wanted to tell me i was crazy. i was absolutely deluded and there was no saving me. these pills could help the disorders, but never get rid of them.
i took them for the sake of my grandma, and my parents never got around to finding out about them until i was fourteen. my dad found the empty box that i had binned in my room, and he was absolutely livid. he refused to believe that i had a problem, because his children had to be perfect.
he started beating me for no goddamn reason, and i was used to it from mum because she was irish, but my dad had always been the more loving parent. he started to resent me for things that were out of my control. he'd torment me, call me disgusting names, kick me out when i'd have one of my episodes. i couldn't control it, yet i was still the one to blame because i happened to get the screwy genes.
it become too much, and the library was my only safe haven away from my miserable life. mum didn't care, she probably preferred me out of the house, to be honest.
and then i met you. you annoyed me, you made me want to rip my own, or your hair out and i disliked you from the beginning. but you listened to me, made me feel happy. and dare i say, loved.
was it all a lie? every kiss, every i love you. was that a figment of my imagination? because call me crazy, oh wait you did, but saying that someone's fucked up in the head doesn't really say i love you. it's 1955, women aren't worthless anymore.
don't get me wrong, at the time i worshipped the ground you walked on. you were my new safe haven, the reason i didn't have to go to the library on rodgers lane anymore.
and as i wonder if it was all an act, i see the image of raelynn in your basement. i've finished reading your diary now, i've just had to give it to the police. they made me, of course, for i would've hung on to it like it's the last thing i had left of you. maybe because it was.
this all ends tomorrow. i get to put you and your mistakes behind you, i get to start fresh.
you loved robert frost, something you never mentioned when we were together. you admired his work, looking up to him like a figure of authority.
nothing gold can stay.
you killed maggie, because she was innocent and wouldn't let you stain that trait. you killed madison, because even after you broke her heart she still wanted you, for your benefit. you killed raelynn's boyfriend, because he showed the person he loved the most how much he cared for her. and you killed raelynn, because of your own selfish needs.
all of these people were golden, they didn't deserve to be in this world full of sorrow, and disgust. they deserved to be in a better place. and that's why you let me go, because i wasn't golden. my mind had already been to hell and back, i was stained with the blood of my demons.
this all ends tomorrow, harry. i can finally say goodbye to you. i can't wait to get the voices out of my head, and i don't blame you for doing what you did anymore. i don't blame you for what you said to the police man when you turned yourself in. i know you want our love to be eternal, and that's fine. we can be together forever.
but i'm scared, harry. so tomorrow, would you maybe hold my hand as we're hung together?
jade x
