Is it worth it?

poem about a young teenager

July 2, 2015

 

Dear Diary,

The therapist said writing a journal would help with my anxiety, but if you ask me she’s just trying to get in my head considering I don’t really engage in conversation during our sessions. It was my mother’s idea; I don’t even have a problem. I swear parents find out that the littlest thing is wrong with their child and instead of dealing with it themselves, they send them to some shrink who’s supposed to make it all better. In my opinion it’s all bullshit. The questions, the talking, all of it is a way for people who like being in other people’s business to make money. But I guess the more I cooperate the faster I can get out of it. I mean a day in the life of Elle Murphy isn’t all that exciting but whatever makes Dr. Lanchester happy.

Lets see, I woke up around 6 o’clock this morning actually quite peacefully for a school day. Thank god I decided to start picking out my outfits the night before. Now that I wear makeup to school it takes me at least half an hour to get it just right. I cant believe I used to wear no make up to school, I cant imagine how considering the fact I look deathly ill without it. Foundation and concealer really have a way of fixing all the imperfections. After makeup I finished straightening my hair, put on my clothes and went down stairs. I’d rather not start off the day looking bloated, so like every other morning I skipped breakfast. School’s the same old boring routine. Most of the time I go through the motions like a zombie from the movies. Finally after school was over I was ready for the weekend Friday nights were the best because all the upperclassmen parties were on Fridays. I am not very close with any of the upperclassmen but slap on a little extra makeup and some tight close and they let you in no questions asked. It’s funny how high school works; you could start from the lowest of the geeks and with just the right social skills can climb your way right to the top of the popular girls. And I guess that’s where it all started. “This little problem” all started over me wanting to have a better social life. I guess writing it; just thinking it out loud makes it seem so superficial. But at the time that’s what meant the most to me so I was going to do whatever it took to be on the top, to be beautiful. So going to those parties was something I started doing, along with wearing more make up, and eating less. But when it was all said and done I was left feeling useless. I didn’t have any close friends that really cared about me. The boys that were so intimate with me between the sheets could care less about me after they were finished. The only thing I could control was my eating. I don’t think I have a problem yet a few pounds shed and my mom takes me straight to the doctor. But anyway back to my day, so I walk up the driveway and into the party do the same routine with the same people. It’s a cycle I can’t live with anymore but it’s a type of addiction that I don’t know how to break free from. If I can’t do it I don’t see how a stranger can do it either. But all I know is I wish I had never started. The second you want “more”, “more” starts to consume you. If only I had known it sooner.

July 3, 2015

Dear Diary,

I woke up this morning to my mother singing happy birthday as she barged In my room with a stack of pancakes. Protruding out of the fluffy stack was a single lit candle. She pushed it in my face as I put on a smile and blew out the flame. Birthdays are always the hardest for me, and although mom made it as pleasant as she possibly could I was never able to push back the memories of my dad. Every year on my birthday he used to take me out to my favorite restaurant and against my mother’s wishes he would order me a piece of cake the size of my head. Along with the good memories also came the bad. I start to slip back into the memories of that night. I begin to feel the water coming up from my feet to my head and hearing the screams of my baby brother as he squirms In his car seat trying to wrap his year old brain around what is going on. I can see my dad coming to the back and unbuckling me, pushing me through the window in the back that had been open because I had been complaining about the temperature only 10 minutes before. I remember fiercely waving my hands as fast as I possibly could to make it up to the surface of the Jonson Lake. My dad had turned his back for 2 minutes to try and stop my brother from crying and he lost control and we headed into the lake. Through my few years of swim lessons I was able to get myself to the shore and sit there waiting for my dad to come to the surface with my little brother. I waited, and waited. No one ever came to the surface. Soon police had been given notice about a car that had gone to the river and they came with sirens and colorful lights. Soon I ended up at home, with no brother, with no father. I was 8 years old. So it may be my birthday, but for me, it was more of a remembrance of my dad because the accident happened to fall on my birthday on our way out to dinner. So I sat in bed just as every other birthday and looked at old pictures and sobbed uncontrollably.

July 4, 2015

Dear diary,

Following my birthday every year was the “birthday” of our dear country. It was also my favorite holiday of the year because I could go out and  party with all my friends without my mom all over my back because she knew how hard the day before had been. There was a beach party about a half an hour away and my entire school was going. A few girls and I decided to get ready and drive up together. I did not really know them that well but I had partied with them before and they asked me to go with them, so why not? We all decided to  wear bikinis and shorts along with a laya and a flower in my hair because it was Hawaiian themed. There was only one girl in the group that was in my grade and the rest were all seniors. We all sat and pre-gamed before leaving. As soon as the first couple shots started settling in I couldn’t help but like the numbing effect it had on me. It got rid of the sadness and the insecurities and I started to feel more like myself: more free. We got to the party and after that I don’t remember what happened. But, a few brief moments keep poking through my subconscious up into my memory. I remember being loud and running all over the place. I remember trying to talk to Anthony Kilvet, the quarterback on the football team. I woke up on the beach, my head pounding with no one in sight. I was alone, I’ll always be alone.

July 5, 2015

Dear diary,

I don’t have anything to say today.

July 6, 2015

Dear diary,

 

July 7, 2015

Kentucky Times

Today a young women, Elle Murphy, was found dead in her room with an empty pill bottle in her hand. “She was a beautiful, bright Junior who had a bright future ahead of her,” was all her mother had to say at the time. Elle was seeking therapy for her eating disorder and upon finding her journal her therapist said there was a high possibility she had depression as well. The police said that there was a piece of paper laying next to the body, “it wasn’t worth it.” was all it said. She will be missed dearly by her family and friends. 

Author's Note

any thoughts?