May 14, 2006

Dear Whomever,

I found this journal on a store shelf today. I took it. I don't know why but I took it. I've never really stolen anything before and it feels strange that I did it today. I've been hungry, bruised, angry, and wanting attention and yet I've never stolen until today. You would think that it would have come sooner; that, with my life, I would have done something like this long ago. But, nonetheless, I have been a good little girl up until now. No one would know what it was like at home, what I lived with everyday of my life. It hurts to think that I have no hope for release. Where is my hope? Nowhere, that's the truth. The only hope that I do have lies four years in the future, at the very least. You may think, 'why can't you just run?' or 'why don't you call someone and get help?' Only people who aren't in this type of situation think that the answer is that simple. I think that I should probably give you some background but, to be honest, I don't want to write about that right now. I'm also afraid that if my father found this and I had written everything, that he would really do what he threatens to do everyday. Though I hate the life I live, I'm not willing to allow him to take it from me. He has already ruined everything else.

I have to go, I can't handle even writing that. I'm crying, I have cried in years.

-Your Accomplice

Dear Hitler,

You know I fucking hate you. With every core of my being I hate you. You've done it again, made it impossible for me to blend in at school, impossible for me to walk through the hallway without everyone staring. Once again, I have to miss school. Once again, you are going to make me either fail or be very close to failing. How long have I been held back. I wonder why no one asks questions, why no one ever seems curious about the fact that I'm 14 and in the fifth grade, even though my grades are good. Why does no one ask about the scares that I have? About the fading black and blue marks? Why do they just stare? I highly doubt that I would want them to ask, because that would bring so much more trouble into my life, but if they would at least just ignore me… or if they would at least pretend that I was normal. At least then, I would have a refuge from the storm that is you. Ahahaha, your cruelty is making me into the lamest "poet" that has ever lived. By the way, I hope you die in the most horrendous way possible. I hope someone stabs you to death and that it takes hours and hours for you to die. I hope you suffer at least as much as you have made me suffer. Dear, dear Hitler of my life. Let me go throw up now at the thought of you. If only I didn't have to walk past you to get to the bathroom. I HOPE THAT YOU FUKCING ROT! Aeshyjh

-XXXX