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Dear Diary
16:54 Dec 24 2005
Times Read: 683




DIARY



Day 1

Dear Diary - Someone told me that I should start a diary because you'd become like a friend to me. I don't have any friends, so it's worth a shot. I don't trust you. So, I'm thinking why should I write the truth to someone or something that I don't even trust.



Day 2

I have secret places. I find comfort in the dark. It used to be, I loved to lay in the grass in the middle of the yard on a hot summer day and pretend that Jesus was lying there next to me, watching the clouds. We'd pick out animals in the clouds together. That was when I was young. Now He's walked away from me. He doesn't hang around when I'm cutting. He's quite a stranger now.





Day 3

Mr. Demon visited last night. He sits on my chest and torments me in the middle of the night. I can't breathe when he comes. I wake up in a sweat and I'm terrified. I wish he'd leave me alone - like everyone else. He comes while I'm asleep and I never know when to expect him. All the sudden, I wake up in terror. I guess if he would warn me that's he's coming, it wouldn't be very fun game for him.



You don't help me either. You're not the friend they said you would be. You're a brick wall just like all the rest.



Day 4

I'm on the lookout for tools. Everything I see becomes a potential tool. A piece of broken glass, a safety pin, a match. What I do to my body seems surreal. I watch my own hand take a weapon and carve my flesh out. The sharp point digs into skin and makes it's way past the nerves and into a vein. I feel pain. It becomes a challenge to me - I can withstand physical pain equal to the emotional pain that I live with. Tomorrow I will increase that pain - It's a secret I have from the rest of the world. I thought it would bring attention but I was wrong. And now it's an obsession. I hate myself.



Day 5

Living a lie. This whole messed up life is a lie. Jesus is a lie. He's not the same friend who was so real to me when I was a kid. If he was such a friend, then he wouldn't let Mr. Demon in my room. I call out to Jesus in the middle of the night when I'm terrified, but he never answers. Sometimes I would just love to die. Why do I do this to myself - I can't even do a good enough job to kill myself. Maybe part of me wants to preserve my own life. I'm in control of my self. I call the shots. NO one else cares.



Day 6

I took a can lid to my hand. I did it slowly and watched my flesh part. Man, flesh is interesting stuff. Then the blood oozed out. I came home and showed it off. I still got no sympathy. This life sucks. I talked back to my mom once and she threatened to cut out my tongue with a can lid. I imagine the bloody violence of that scene. She would have to use all her strength to keep me down on the floor as she cut out my tongue. Blood would be everywhere. She doesn't want to hear me talk. That would do it. I don't want to hear her talk either - maybe we could cut out each others tongues. An eye for an eye - and a tongue for a tongue.



Day 7

I moved from the Mr. Demon room, and he doesn't stalk me as much anymore. Sleeping with a light on helps too. He's an evil ugly man who perches right on my chest. What does he want from me anyway?



You never answer me. I have plenty of "friends" just like you, so why do I need one more? Answer me!



Day 8

Silence. And darkness. That's the world I live in. I can't be a friend because I don't know how to be one. I live in lonliness and pain. Why won't this end? How can I make it end.



Day after day, I go to school and I go to work - I even do some social stuff. But nothing ever changes. I'm still desperate. I'm still hated by the people who are supposed to love me.



Day 9

Dear f-ing Diary.

I'm tired of you. I'll cast you out of my life. Like I said; I'm in control. I will cast you out before you cast me out. It's better that way. I have the choice and I'll choose first before you have the chance to. I've built a pretty wall around myself. I have no one to turn to. It's just me and Mr. Demon.