November 6, 2006 — age seventeen
(part of a look at the past)

everything is staring at me. everything. laughing, attacking. death is breathing down my throat, i can feel him. i want to scream, yet i’m unable to. i can hardly breathe. it’s too cold, and i’m shivering. freezing. won’t someone save me? where’d they all go? to dance with life, i want to dance. hold my hand, save me. i’m falling under, and i keep getting deeper. i thought i was going back up, but it was my mind tricking myself again. far away, too far to touch. i wonder how much it would take. i can’t stop the tears; they’re so silent, yet so loud. the lights make my head throb with pain. i’m keeping it dark, but the lights are spilling in through the cracks, catching my eye. why is death suddenly so appealing? i honestly don’t want to die, but i feel it’s the only way to live.

i wish i were able to sleep for days, but i’m wide awake. my thoughts are torturing me, blinding me. i don’t ever want to stop writing. maybe if i write, it will all disappear. i’ve been trying all day. i think. i can’t remember.

i feel like i need to throw up my insides. every last one. these words aren’t helping.