3She feels so lost and deserted now,
No one seems to care
All she had was lost to love
And all the pain she bares
Dreams of light
And dreams of Dark
Death to the dreams that taunt her
A skinny, tall girl stared at the page of a note book as she shook her head softly.
"Crap. That's what it is crap. My whole life's crap." The girl's hand hovered over the page, ink pen in position to write. She sighed. "Well... I might as well continue. Write my life away." Chuckling spitefully, she went to work.
/Dear Whomever,
The book in your hands is an explanation of my life, my whole life and this is a little preview. I warn you as you read this. Don't expect a happy ending. There is none and there never will be. Anyway, starting at the beginning.
No one's ever really cared for me while I've been alive. At least, no one ever cared for me that I knew. I was one year old when it happened; when the only person who would have cared for me until death, died: My mother. I never even knew her. At the age of 26 she had a stroke. She should have lived, she could have lived, but, when it happened no one was there with her but one-year-old me. There wasn't too much damage I guess and, at the time, my mom didn't even know she had had a stroke. She didn't even go to the hospital or bother to tell anyone. I guess telling anyone wouldn't have really helped since a couple day later, she had a major heart attack from a genetic blood clot. She never woke up again after that. Too many health problems that they couldn't fix. I guess. After that, my dad failed, too. He didn't die, no, but his whole attitude towards everything changed. He started to hate God and he hated me even more. (Though a neighbor did tell me hat he used to love me and God more than life. Not more than mom I guess) Somehow, he came up with the conclusion that it was my fault my mother died. I never got his reasoning, but, then again, I never thought about it much. I was pretty much just set on tying to stay alive since everyday I thought my dad was trying to kill me./
The girl stopped at that sentence and stared down at the scars on her legs and arms.
"Thought he was going to kill me?... Ha." The girl scoffed lightly and went back to work.
/Now, I sit here in my attic, pen in hand, and a feeling of ultimate sorrow and confusion fills my head and chest. My father has killed himself, overdosed with the help of a whole bottle of pills and a few cans of beer. He combined the two 'nice and neat'. (Yeah... right.) I know because I watched him do it. I couldn't stop it. Though I'm not so sure if I would have anyway since the whole time he screamed at me for ruining his life. "You killed your mother! You wreaked my whole life! I hate you and I've wanted to kill you so much to get you out of my face! Be glad I didn't! That's my gift to you, you worthless shit!" His last words ever. After that, he downed the bottle of anti depressants and left the room. I thank whatever-God-there is that he did. I found him on the stairs later though. He's still there. Why should I call anyone when there's no one who really cares?/
The girl's head shot up as the door bell rang and she stared at the attic stairs in fear. She didn't want anyone to interfere or ruin this. She's wanted to do this for so long and she wouldn't let anyone stop her. Her father really should have just killed her. Stupid gift he gave her. She wasn't accepting it. Anything he gave her, she didn't want.
/Someone is at the door now. Probably a mailman or paperboy or someone. This is my life, gone to hell by a hard life and an awful dad. Why couldn't he have just pulled him self together, been an adult. Sure, if I really wanted to I could trick myself into thinking that my dad died because he loved my mother so much that he went insane. Yeah... fuck that. He could have loved me at least a little. The kids at school could have at least tried to talk to me in the sixteen years I was alive. I don't care anymore. I'm giving up.
Happy Birthday to me:
Anlie Marisa James /
Quickly and without further thought, the young girl picked up a knife from the floor and sliced right down her arm. The blood poured out almost immediately and, with her first look at her arm, she went into shock and promptly passed out, dying in rest.
/May 15, 2007
A Double Suicide Yesterday left the town of Fairway in shock. Anlie Marisa James and her father, Joseph Andrew James were found dead in their homes this morning be a neighbor. Anlie wrote an entry in her journal right before her death along with a note in the front granting anyone who found it the freedom to do with it what he or she will. Her neighbor, JoAnne Martin, who foundthe journal, has decided to release it to the public in the form of a book. Martin commented, "I don't care about how many people buy it or whether or not people will think it's right to publish a dead girl's journal. They need to read this; it's moving, deep and very scary. I knew this family fairly well and never knew the real problem they had. I ignored all the things that I thought were small..." Release date of the book to be found in this newspaper at a later date./
/July 25, 2007
(Notification from May 15, 2007) "Path to Suicide" by Anlie James to be release on August 2nd of this year order at:
JoAnne Martin
P.O. Box 146
King of Prussia, PA 19406 /
AN. If I get at least 1-2 comments on this, I'll write Anlie's journal and post it here. Sorry for the sad story thing here but I found it and decided I'd change my writing thing a bit and finish it. I forget where this came from. Comment if you want me to write more.