Spencer.

September 21st
It is two-forty-five and it is warm out. The mornings are cooler and not so bad, but as the day progresses the sun heats it all up. School just got out and I am walking to the place where my mother picks me up everyday, normally 10 minutes late. I cross the busy side street that lies next to the school and sit down on the green grass with my back against a street sign. I wait and the sun bakes my white face into a slight pink. Today wasn't so bad. School was easy but for some reason as the day went on I began to feel a certain way. A way that I know quite well; Depression is a familiar friend. I know her inside and out, the sinking; alone feeling that starts in my head and travels to my toes. I thought I was over and done with this feeling, but like anything in the past it eventually breaks it way out of the prison in the back of your mind and heart and attacks. I suppose I have my motives to have this reoccurring mood. I have been through a lot of loss, the loss of her and him. The trying to forget and impossible realization that it will only ever hurt a little bit less. Even when the pain lessens, the lonely feeling that fills my heart is overwhelming and brings me down. I don't have anything physical to show for my past except for the small lines of skin on my arms that are a lighter shade. My scars from my hopeless and dense attempts to feel better. My mother doesn't know anything about any of that and thinks I am crazy and she is probably right.. My family life is unsatisfactory and dysfunctional. I'd like to meet the liar who claims to have a completely functional family. No one does, it doesn't happen. You can act as Stepford as you want, you're a fake and a fraud. You can't look me in the eye and tell me you are happy all the damn time. It just isn't going to happen. Everyone cries, everyone breaks, and everyone hurts. I think I am getting depressed again.


September 22,
A Saturday. You'd think that I being a teenage girl would be going out and engaging in the social whirlwind that any normal teenager would be. But I sit in my room staring at the world outside me. Wishing to be a part of it but too afraid to actually try. I dread weekends. The hours and hours I spend with my family is enough to send me to an asylum in a straightjacket. In fact, I'd prefer it there. White walls, cushioned, and other troubled and misunderstood people. No school, no drama, no bother. I wish I lived in a world where I could be "that girl" the one that gets "that guy". "That guy", is Zane Carter. He is beautiful and I used mistake my infatuation with him for love. But love, I've come to understand isn't all that predictable. It's never where you expect it to be. And when it's there, appreciate it, because it might be taken away from you suddenly, before you can give it one last kiss or even one last glance. "That girl", is Emily Thomas. She is perfect in societies blind and close-minded way. Skinny, blonde, tan, happy and a cheerleader. No one stares at her because she is different; they stare because she is what they want. On a typical Saturday, they meet up at our town's sorry excuse for a mall and parade around with their posse of good-looking sheep. I on the other hand, don't. I am not beautiful by societies standard. My hair is wild, wavy and black and my skin is chalk white. My eyes are green but such a dark green they appear to be black. Also, I am not a stick; I have curves. They call me "vampire" because of my light skin and dark features. They don't say it to me but they say it at me. "Get out of my way, vampire" and with a sneer they push me out of their way. I have no place in this world. I wish I could find someone to call my friend but since he and she are no longer, I fear that I will never again find that acceptance.


September 23,
Sunday. Every Sunday I get dragged to an early morning mass. Where the preacher yells at me and the rest of the congregation about our sins. Today's lecture is that we won't make it to heaven if we defile our bodies and mutilate ourselves. Well I am guess I am headed for hell then. My scars are my burden when in this house. I wear long sleeved shirts and avoid the mans piercing gaze. I think he suspects I'm a demon. I wear black and I have the features. Does he not realize that my heart beats like anyone else? That my thoughts run like anyone else? That I am only human like anyone else? Oh, if only he knew what I have seen maybe he wouldn't be so quick to judge with his hypercritical eyes. It is here; that my mind wanders to the VCR I have in my mind and I press rewind. Suddenly, he is here and so is she. We are walking on a street all holding hands and singing to the sky. We are smiling, laughing and he looks at me in a way that makes me melt. Suddenly a hand shook me and I realized I had been dreaming, I miss that life, I miss the girl that I was and I miss them.


September 24,
I should probably like school. I am good student but I worry my teachers. I have been sent to the counselor so many times I think I have set a record. It's nice though, that they care. Sometimes knowing someone cares even a little bit is enough to make you want to live. I feel awkward as I make my way through the crowed hallways to my next class. I see people smile as they recognize someone they know. No one ever smiles at me. I am outcast and I am too far into this to try to get out. The smarter side of me tells me if I stopped dwelling on the past I could start again and be someone I wanted to be. The other side of me however knows I can't. The only people here who pay me any mind are "bullies," I know how to site them well. When they start my way with trouble in their eyes, I advert my path and avoid them. I see Emily and her long time boyfriend campus "hottie" Laurie Markus holding hands, laughing and smiling. She is clueless. She doesn't know what he is. What he did. I pity her in a jealous way.


September 25th.
I wish days went by faster. I sit in class and I watch the minute hand slowly make it around its very own racetrack. I wish it were a racetrack that way it would move at a quicker speed. The tick and tock of it teases me, taunts me. I remember when the clock was my friend. When I wanted every second to last forever. When he touched me, time was kind enough even to stand still. Now though, like everyone else, time has become my enemy. After a never ending 45 minutes the angry bell sounded it's complaints and we all rose and hurried out the doors of our bland, and boring classrooms. The relief of being out of class is replaced with the hallway scene. I'm surprised no one has ever gotten tramped to death. If someone fell I would assume no one would stop and the poor soul would lie there crying out and bleeding as the heels of preppy girls stomped the life out of them. Maybe I am too morbid. I don't think so.


September 26th.
Wednesday. Halfway done with the week. It's funny almost, on weekdays I long for the weekend but on weekends I long for school. I am discontent to the point of confusion. I went to see the counselor today. She asked me how I was and I told her I didn't know. Sometimes I wished I were dead but it was nothing to fear because I am too much of a coward to shorten the natural span of my life. Sometimes I wished I were Emily. That I was wanted, cherished, admired, loved and voted for stupid homecoming queen. I wished I could be a normal girl. I wished that Laurie didn't wreck so much for me. Above all, I wish that he were still here. My beautiful better half, my fondest memory, my most painful separation. The sight of his stone haunts my nights. The words "rest in peace" mean no rest for me. I miss her too. I can't see the color red the same. I almost want to tell my clueless counselor everything but I can't make the words come. They make their way out of my heart and travel up my throat but they get stuck between my teeth and then give up, turn around and settle back in my heart. I am a mess but lucky for me I have always found mess worthwhile.


September 27th
Today was a nightmare. We had a school assembly and it was like the speaker cut open my head and took a look at one of my biggest fears. The speaker talked to us about "real truth" not the many interpretations. To me his "real truth" seemed like an interpretation. He announced he was going to call a few students down and ask them for the "real truth" on certain things. He asked for volunteers. A couple hands went up. Mine didn't. Yet somehow even though my hand never left my side, he called me down. I looked around me at the people sitting near me and didn't move. It was a mistake, it had to be. But it wasn't. I stood up and walked down the bleacher stairs. When I got to the gym floor he walked up to me and asked what I thought about people who lie. My mind raced. What could I say to that? My life is a web of lies. Lies to my family, to my teachers, my counselors and too myself. I stuttered out a few sounds and then dropped the microphone and ran out. I could hear the silence that was followed by deafening laughter. Damn him. As soon as I got out the gym doors I started running down the hallway. I looked behind me to see if anyone was following me and I suddenly, I wasn't running. I had run into something or someone and now I was on the floor. I looked up from my stop on the tile into the face of the person I collided with into. Zane Carter. He reached down, picked me up and opened his mouth as if he was going to say something. Before he could, I shook his grasp and ran. I ran through the halls, out the doors, past the parking lot, into the woods and I ran until I thought my legs were going to break off of my body and find someone who would treat them better. Finally I fell and I cried.

Reviews

[Jules]

This is really sad, yet touching and good. I like how you wrote it in the form of a diary. It makes the idea of the story hit home more. I didn't see any grammar or spelling errors.