eh...today was okay leaning towards good i guess, in ewerths i had a stress reliever...it helped a lot because i got REALLY pissed at him and yesterday i had to hurt myself to get rid of my anger (not like cutting or anything severe)
umm so we had a rehearsal...it was boring our concerts tonight
blah blah blah...track we ran a monster lap and i cant believe i actually ran the whole way im soooooooooooooo incredibly tired and dead today
and then i got a ride home from lena
and then i came home and pigged out
so tomorrow, jacquis coming to band...ha and tomorrow im going to lenas after school! and then to the dance oh boy<3 ha...i wanna dance with someone...that i think im beginning to like...but i like the other guy still....a lot...a whole hell of a lot...just have another lil crush
and this one....
i have a chance to dance with hahaha
well this was a pretty long entry for like no time, so goodbye
edit
the band concert was WOW lol it was soooo bad on our part...oh well. umm chorus was good...devrons solo...
and waiting to go on was fun i must say
did get a little depressing at points
which is probably why i am like this now
i need to go back to being like 4 and have an imaginary friend...you would never have to worry about being fake or rambling or over exagerating or having them talk behind your back...it would be great
edit again
ugh. i realized why im kinda upset. i forgot for a little while there...
i took up the subject of hanging out with jacqui and josie on my birthday and having a mini party...ha. with my mom. got in a fight about it...she wants me to stay here. figures. theres no way. i dont want to fuckin stay here on whats supposed to be one of the greatest days of my year. like wtf?? its MY day. MY birthday. so get the hell away; ill do whatever the hell i want. maybe i just wont come home that night...run away and die. ha...wouldnt that make her feel guilty.
god im so mean i just realized what i wrote
im such a bad daughter
is she really that bad of a mother?
ugh
im horrible
adding onto my story. dont read if you dont want to. i started from the beginning again, so if you read it before you can scroll down if not you wont be so lost. and its not done yet.
The person sings softly into the microphone, his sad life story. The lyrics coming out of his mouth are all he has been through; everything to show he is still alive. He strums the vintage acoustic guitar softly, enough to make a sound but sound calming. No one is listening; they are talking amongst themselves and don’t care about him. He tries to thank them for coming to listen but all he gets is more murmurs.
Late at night, the young man packs up his guitar and sighs. His life has no meaning yet still he continues to play in broken down local coffee shops every Saturday night to make extra money, yet is always disappointed. His songs mean everything to him but nothing to anyone else.
He stumbles into his empty apartment and flicks on the light. Cockroaches scramble into cracked parts of the wall and floorboards. He looks around the single room and senses a lingering taste of disappointment. The twin sized mattress sits lonely on the floor with a stained white sheet covering it. Next to it is a small table with the legs broken off and held up by a few old dusty books. On top of it is a few bottles of pills, for various things, a safety pin, lighter, pocket knife, and a few CDs for his damaged CD player. On the other side of the room lies a stove that hasn’t been used in about ten years and by that is a few square feet of tile flooring, furnished by a rust streamed shower and dirty toilet. On the floor is all of the clothes he owns; a few pairs of ripped jeans and torn shirts. They are scrambled and wrinkled, and probably have a few bugs in them, but he doesn’t care. There are torn pieces of paper with old song lyrics and poems scribbled on them. Some have drawings of dark scenery. This is all he owns; and he isn’t too proud of any of it.
He collapses on his mattress. He hums the words to his meaningful songs and realizes that he shouldn’t be living. It was his fault she died; had he not gotten behind the wheel that night. He plays the scenario over and over in his head for a few hours. The late night party; where about fifty people underage were so drunk they could barely walk…him being one of them. The stale smell of marijuana and strong rum. Her soft pale face surrounded by beautiful flowing brown hair, with her precious lips he had kissed so delicately before. He sees the bright blue and red lights signaling trouble. Him and her, hand in hand, running to the car, slipping into the two front seats. He envisions his blurred sight doing its best navigating them out the driveway and onto the road. Then him getting dizzy and pressing the gas instead of the break. The car flying through the red light; colliding with those bright white lights, the ones belonging to a huge truck. He feels himself slam against the hard door of his station wagon and feeling her head come down in his lap; then getting knocked out. Waking up a few hours later, clueless of where she is. Screaming for her; not settling without knowing how she is. The tall man telling him that she is dead, because of his careless mistake. The tears streaming down his face, refusing to stop, then falling into a deep sleep.
He snaps out of the nightmarish memory, and reaches for a bottle of the pills on his nightstand. He takes twenty of the strongest he has; and hopes to wake up next to her beautiful body he has want to see for so long.
. . . . . . . . .
The nurses buzz about making all kinds of noise. Mary, an older grouchy lady, screams for someone to assist her. “Its just another attempted suicide…”
A few days later Mike awakes, lost and weak. He whirls around and gets very dizzy but focuses his vision in a few seconds. There is an IV, and it’s leading into his arm. He turns again to see on the other side of him a young girl, about two years younger than he. Mike looks ahead and sees two nameplates; one for him and the other one with “Christine Parker” written sloppily. He looks back at her and the images of that frightening night flash before him once again; she looks a lot like her…
Memories come pounding back to him. The next morning after the accident, him dazedly looking over at her, and her lifeless body. Him knowing for a fact she has died, and it is his fault. Knowing that his life will never be the same again and will never have anymore meaning. The I.V.s going in and out of her arms, all over the place. The mask covering her beautiful face. Him screaming for help; a nurse rushing into the room. He remembers the nurse running over to her lean body, realizing what has happened.
He snaps out of it as a nurse comes in and sees he is heavily sweating. She asks him if he is all right, and he replies yes. Beads of sweat roll down his forehead as he takes a deep, long breath. The nurse leaves to attend another patient, and he dazes into the ceiling.
. . . . . . . . .
“Please, tell me why you tried killing yourself.”
Silence.
“Michael, you must talk to me.”
Silence.
Mike is sitting in the psychiatrist’s office in Cherry Tree Clinic. He has been there for about a month; and no progress has been made. His hair is greasy and matted. He hasn’t spoken the whole time he has been here and doesn’t plan to until his insurance runs out and he is sent home.
In a few minutes, the psychiatrist finally releases him. He goes back to his room and lies on the uncomfortable bed, and sighs. Being here is doing nothing for him, and he has got to get out. He grabs all of his few belongings and runs down the white hallway. He turns a few corners and sees the bright red sign blaring the word “exit.” Mike rushes towards it and pushes the door open to taste his first bit of freedom in a month. He lies low and runs through the open fields and into the woods. A thorn bush catches onto his clothing and he rips apart from it, tearing his shirt. He doesn’t care though; barely even notices. The trees become a blur as Mike continues traveling through them at the highest speed he possibly can. Finally he sees light and heads towards it, where he is taken to a fence that he quickly climbs over. On the other side he realizes he is finally out, and tries to make sense of where he is. On his right is a run down gas station and on his left is open field. He decides to go to his right.
Mike rushes into the small convenience store at the gas station. A gray man with a big beer belly who is unshaven greets him. Mike asks him where to go to get to Shivesville and the man points him in the direction. Mike takes off towards his town but soon runs out of energy and reaches in his bag for some loose change. He finds three one-dollar bills and a few quarters; enough to catch a bus to get him home. He runs back to the gas station, and asks the same man where the nearest bus station is. The man grunts and points him in another direction, where Mike quickly bolts out the door and heads to.
. . . . . . . . .
Mike gets off the bus and steps out into the rain. It isn’t a downpour; but a little more than a light drizzle. The day is just ending and it the sun is going down. He shivers from having ripped clothing on, but heads to his apartment. About to take the turn onto the familiar street, he keeps heading forward, to somewhere unknown. He walks mindlessly, his feet lightly touching the sidewalk, barely making a noise. The rain falls down on him as he just keeps walking; never stopping. Along the street he looks over and sees an apartment, in it holds a happy family. They are watching TV, cuddled together and laughing at each other. Mike pauses for a second to observe; then quickly moves on. In the next window is a young couple side by side at a table, eating a late dinner. They are holding hands and feeding each other, and Mike thinks of his childhood, watching the movie “The Lady And The Tramp.” He remembers the dogs being so incredibly in love with each other. He didn’t know what love was then; and now that he does the harmless kids movie has a completely different meaning.
Mike walks briskly by the next few apartments; afraid to look and see what he might find; what he might remember. He figures it must have been about an hour since he had gotten off the bus; about two to three miles. There is no way he is turning back now as he keeps walking the straight path to nowhere. Finally, he glances over at an apartment. There is a young woman, crying. She looks about his age and she has silky light brown hair and petite body figure. He comes to a complete stop for the first time and watches her break down.
Suddenly, everything happens all at once. He is taken back to a late night last September, when the crisp evening air billowed through the window and the curtains were streaming out into the open room. She, Amelia, is on the other side of the room, curled into a corner. Her face is buried in her hands and she is sobbing uncontrollably. Mike stands there in front of the window and the breeze seeps through him; sending chills throughout his body. He freezes there; feeling helpless and guilty. They had just gotten in a fight and he screamed at her and ended up pushing her over. What was wrong with him? He had completely disrespected her; and now felt horrible; but couldn’t get the courage to go help her and calm her down. He walks out of the apartment soundlessly and goes outside and watches her through the window; and sees her cry.
Mike is brought back to reality when a strong wind gust pushes him over. He is shaking uncontrollably but decides to move on. Eventually he crashes into a wall, and opens his eyes to see what is in front of him. It’s a bridge; and below is water. He takes a deep breath and stands on top of the ledge and spreads out his arms. The cool brisk air leaps through him and his shaggy hair blows in the wind. The rain falls down on his face harder than before; but he doesn’t notice. He isn’t sure what to do; so he stands on the ledge for a few minutes, and a tear streams down his face. All the anger, guilt, and depression hit him like a giant wave, and he crashes down. Mike pushes himself slightly forward; and takes the fall into the deep waters below.
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