Hello, November.

You have caught me in only the first day.
I gave up and gave in.
I spoke up without speaking at all.

To the therapist and specialist I go to get color coated candy medicine for depression, anxiety and a proper diagnosis.

Papa cried.
Mama cried.

They don't understand.

And I don't think I want them to.

I only wanted to get better.

Not drag them down with me.

Want to know why it never seems like I care about the material things I break?

It's cause I try harder to make it so that Dianney doesn't break either.

Today was strange.

I woke up alright.

I laughed and smiled lots during 1st and 2nd block.

I was ok for the first half of the day.

Then after lunch

I felt like throwing myself out a window.

Tearing my skin off.

And ripping my skull apart from the inside out.

I was shaking.

Group work was called out for fourth block.

That was the worst thing that could happen.

My head felt like it was floating but being weighed down at the same time. 

The shaking got worse.

The tears floated up to my eyes.

The hands were caressing my throat.

I wanted so desperately to run away and disappear. 

I looked and looked and hid behind my hair.

I tried to ignore the weights and feathers and tears and hands.

I stared at my lap to make it seem like I was the only one there.

No one else. 

I heard explanation coming from behind me.

I heard it come closer.

I felt it hovering above me.

I remembered.

I remembered.

I could've just curled up in a ball and start rocking back and forth and let the tears leak out my eyes and scream until my vocal chords snapped into a thousand strings.

But I didn't.

I kept staring at my lap, as if it would make everything better. 

I kept listening. 

And then blank.

I found myself at the end of the block, awake the whole time, but not being able to recall what had been said or done within the last 50 minutes.

Just blank.

I came home and felt better.

Then again.

My skull was going to crack through the middle and collapse. 

I held on tightly and let out screams whispers of terror. 

I couldn't breathe.

Water in my eyes.

I keep holding on.

Even at practice, 

"Are you okay today? Are you sick or somethin?"

The feeling came back.

And I had nowhere to go.

Nothing I could do about it.

I'm walking from pre-calc down b-hall, toward the rotunda, to down a-hall to get back into b-hall in a full circle like I always do. I already made up my mind last block that I could not go on the rest of the day that block. I decided I would go find you for help. If I got lucky, maybe I'd run into you in person in the hallways. I did. You found me walking with my head down and my eyes glossy and pleading for something. Anything.

Mr. C: Hey Dianne. -smiles-
Me:
Mr. C: You ok?
Me:
Mr. C: You're mad aren't ya?
Me: -shakes head no-
Mr. C: Tell me what you're feelin, mad?
Me: -shakes head no-
Mr. C: Sad?
Me: -shakes head no-
Mr. C:

Your face changes into that concerned look.

Me: I... I don't know what to call it.. I don't know.. how to describe it.

Fat fatty.

Me: My neighbor likes to harass me me on facebook.

Ms. S: Harass you? 

Me: Yeah. Like last year she got her cousin to like call me out on facebook about minding my own business from when Arty said something to her last year about her boyfriend being fake and I was just there. So, I didn't answer because I didn't say anything then. Anyway, I told Arty and he got mad and confronted her. Then we went on her wall and saw that her cousin who messaged me was like "Haha, that b---- didn't answer me." Which is dumb. 

Ms. S:  Wait how old are they?

Me: They're older, definitely. They graduated a couple of years ago. 

Ms. S: Wow. They must really be losers. No offense to you, but why would you pick on people still in high school. 

Me: That's exactly what I was thinking! Anyway, yeah. And that went away, and last night I posted a picture of me from 8th grade til now just saying how much has changed and she commented it saying "Haha, too bad you still look like a slut." 

Ms. S: What?! 

Me: Yep. It was just pictures of my face. So I don't even know. Maybe it's cause I like to wear shorts all the time...? 

Ms. S: So? Who cares? You don't look bad in them anyway cause you're little. 

Me: That might be it, cause, don't mean to be rude or anything, but she is not that little... 

Ms. S: She's probably just jealous then because you can wear shorts and get away with it. And when she wear shorts she just looks like a fatty. 

Me: -cracking up-

Ugh god, I love you.
I consider you to be one of my best friends.
Sorry for always popping in.
Sorry for never warning you I'll stop by.
Sorry for never saying much.
Sorry for saying too much.
Sorry for making you wait around for me.

But thank you.
For always inviting me in.
For always greeting me with a smile when I stop by.
For talking to me.
For being patient for me.

As we were leaving you told me,

Ms. S: Thanks for visiting me. 

Thanks for letting me in.

Sweet Semptember.

This place again. I sign in. I see you. You see me. You beckon me to come in. I did not bring my books this time. I figured I'd be back to class. I figured it'd be wierd if I brought my things this time. I had nothing to show, after all.

Cold. Small. Another chair has been thrown inside the room. You sit in the same spot. I go to sit in the less comfortable chair. You say the other one is comfier. I take that as a sign you want me to sit in that one instead, so I do.

Today starts by saying you're mad at me. You're always mad at me. But I never believe you. I know you're not really mad at me. How could you be? It's not like you are my father. It's not like you are my brother. It's not like you are my friend. You are only here to listen to me whine and complain and cry. The truth is you are disappointed in me. Not mad. I don't care though. I am mad at me too. I am disappointed in me too. You ask me why I did what I did. The only reason I had to support me was that I did not want to do what I had to. 

You ask me if I have any goals. I shake my head no. I do not. You tell me I should.

This upsets you. You lecture me. You tell me to treat school like work. It's important. I don't really care. You ask me what would I do if I had a great job that paid $100,000 and if I screwed up by not doing what I had to, I'd lose the job. I told you the truth. I didn't care. I really didn't. What's $100,000 to someone who has everything already, but has nothing all at the same time? Money makes no difference. Money won't fix this. You continue lecturing. And then say that was your lecture for the day.

You ask me how my summer was. If I did anything. I tell you no. I have stayed inside most of the time. I have gone out about 5 times. Which is true. You lead up to something else that I've been quite curious about for quite some time now.

You: Are you depressed?

Me: I don't know. I guess. 

You: If we were sitting in my office, and I was psychoanalyzing you --which I'm not! I'm a therapist and this is just how I think-- But if I were writing out a prescription, I would diagnose you with dysthemia. Do you know what that is?

Me: /shakes head no.

You: There are different forms of depression.There's major depression, being the highest, and then there are other stages that are lower, like dysthemia. Dysthemia is a minor form of depression. It's like everything is just "eh" you're never too happy about anything, and you're usually low. Everything else doesn't matter. But that's just what would happen if we were in my office.

 Me: 

You continue on by saying that it's okay though because a lot of other teenagers feel that way too. And that you think when I get older it will all be better. And I will get over this. And I will be happy.

You continue with your therapist talk. You tell me there are only 2 types of people in the world. You ask me if I know who they are. I do not know the answer. You raise two fingers and point to them and say, "There are only two types of people in the world. There are neurotic people. And there are psychotic people. 97% of the world being neurotic with everyday kinks and worries that we all think about that bother us. We all pick at tiny flaws about ourselves. The other 3% are psychotics, who are heavily medicated just to keep them alive. I'm trying to keep you in the neurotic circle. We don't want you in the psychotic circle. That's bad.

I think about that. With the world being populated with over a billion people, and 97% being neurotic and normal. 3% being psychotic and medicated. 3% with a big number like that was still a lot. There are a lot of sad people in the world. Am I one of them?

You tell me I am only in the first trimester of my life. I still have a long way to go, unlike you who is in the last trimester of their life. You tell me statistics of average age of dying males in the U.S. You have only about 10 years. This saddens me. I never thought of it that way. I never thought it would be so soon.

My thoughts are broken by your words. You tell me that we have the rest of the year, and until then you are going to try and help me feel better about myself. Feel better about life.

You ask me how I feel. I tell you how every morning the first thought that rushes into my head when I wake up is,"Being awake is the worst feeling ever. Being alive is the worst feeling ever." Your facial muscles contort into a concerned look. Your eyebrows move. Your mouth is in a frown. You tell me, you know how it feels. You understand how it feels. I believe you. You throw me back into your past. You tell me that we both feel the same way. But we both expressed the same thing differently. You were outwardly angry with the world, getting into fights and trouble always. I am inwardly angry, directing most things toward myself. This is true. You tell me it will get better. You tell me to look at you as an example, after all, you made it through til now. You want me to make it through, too. To make the best of what we have now because we don't know if there is any better than this.

We are talking and you see one of your colleagues through the window. You greet him through the door. He creeps in and asks if he is interrupting anything and looks at me. I say nothing. You say no. It's fine. He is in the room with us now. You ask him how he is, and if he needs anything. He says no and smiles, Just wanted to drop by and say hi. You embarrass me

You: I'm just talking to one of my favorite students in the building. This is Dianne. Do you know her?

Him: I've seen her around. Hi Dianne -smiles at me- 

Me: Hi. 

You: Mr. V if you see her around, and she looks sad. Say hi to her and tell her to smile. 

Him: Will do. Well, I'm gonna get goin now. It's gonna be a long day.

You: Ah jeeze, I even have to work on Mr. V too. He's one of the most negative people I know.

Me: Smiles.

He leaves.

I ask you if I am contagious. You laugh and say no. I am not a disease. I tell you I know, but it feels like how I act is spreading. And if this person acts like me, and other act like them without knowing where they got that notion from, then who am I? I tell you it upsets me. You tell me you understand where it's coming from. And you begin to ramble on about how people tend to find people who are like them in character. I tell you, I know, I know. But this is different. This person was different before me. In fact, she was the opposite of me. I told you it is wierd and freaky and I do not like it. You shrug your shoulders and say something. You do not know what to say to that.

Somehow you bring up that I have a good friend at Memorial. I am puzzled. You insist that I have a very good friend there. I am a deer in headlights. I assume it is Mr. Z. You tell me she asks about me all the time, and if you have spoken to me, or have seen me.  She. She...!?!!? I connect the dots quickly. Your face pops up into my head. Your name tumbles out of my mouth.

You tell me that you tell her you are always busy, but you do see me. I am patient for my turn to talk to him all the time because you are busy. You tell me she always tells you that I am her bestest bestest friend. You tell me she talks about me like I am the entire world. I am overcome with emotion. My eyes are tearing up. I tell you I love her lots. She is the best. I tell you of the story of how she came to my house late that night. How her parents love me too. You say she really cares about me then. Your voice has a certain tone of happiness at hearing this.

You ask me if I have had any relationships. I tell you no. I am not interested. I did, but it never really works out. You ask me why. I tell you, I usually don't feel it. You tell me I need to give people a chance. I tell you I do. But it usually does not work. I never get too close to people in the first place. You tell me I am afraid of getting hurt. I do not think that it is that though. It doesn't feel like that. I just have a hard time getting close to others. Even getting to her was hard. But I just started talking and couldn't stop, and that was how it happened.

You tell me that it is ok if I will get hurt, because everything will have an end, and everyone will mourn over a loved one. You tell me that you promised your wife that you would love her until the end, until one of you passes away. Whoever passes away first, you will mourn for each other.

I tell you I know. It is not that I am afraid of getting hurt because I still hurt even before any relationship because of what is inside of my head. You smile at me and tell me that's right. You are glad I am aware of my actions and what the consequences I bare myself are.


You ask me something again:

You: Is there anything I can do to make you happy?

Me:

You: What can I do to make you happy?

Me: This. I like this. I like being here. 

You: Good. We have the whole rest of the year for this. For me to work on you so that you see  things differently by the end of the year. I want to help you because I like you and I care about you. It's hard to see you when you feel this way. I don't want you to feel this way.

You tell me I should get back to class now or my teacher will be mad at you.You and he are good friends. You tell me that Friday will be our day, and that you will try to mix it up when you call me down because my 4th block teacher will come after you if I come down at the same time all the time. This amuses me.

You are signing my pass back to class, and I tell you I continued to write over the summer. I ask if you would like to see it and you say yes. I say Ok. At this, you asked me if I painted anything over the summer. To your disappointment, I tell you I have only once. But it is not in my hands. It is in her hands. I show you a picture of it though. You look at it and tell me you like it. It is different. You are seeing something different from me. It is so interesting to you because it is not the same horror and pain that usually comes from my hands. It is a different feeling this time. You tell me it is very good, and that you would like to see it in person. I tell you that you will have to ask her to bring it in because I am sure she will if you ask her. You tell me you will make sure to ask.

You ask me if I am doing anything this weekend. I have to think because the schedule for me had already left me. I tell you and you tell me good luck. You have a wedding to go to and would much rather go to your son's soccer match. You tell me to have a good weekend. I tell you I will try.

I leave feeling better than I did beforehand. I am feeling a bit lighter. I have something to look forward to now. I have some sort of incentive to try.

I do not know if I am making a step forward only to fall even harder than before. I do not know if I am making a step forward to really leave the place I am in now. I only know that I like that I am moving. Even if it is only a step.

Good news.

There's a highly likely chance I suffer from dysthemia.

Oh boy.

The summer I jumped into the fire.

At least once a week, for every week during the month of August, til now, early September, I have seen you.

At least once a week, for every week during the month of August, til now, early September, you have made me smile.

At least once a week, for every week during the month of August, til now, early September, you have given much more than you know.

2 August 2011; Tuesday

It started with a simple, just-hanging-out kind of deal. Tuesday, after sax lessons. I got up, got ready, and left. Restless the night before, I hadn't slept. Whether it was due to hormones, or the fact that I was actually going to hang out with someone, at their house, one on one for the first time ever--I didn't know--I didn't care either really. I felt fine, and so I would be fine.

Before meeting you out front, I had seen someone who meant a lot to me, who is helping me. We chatted for a couple minutes. As much as I had wanted to chat with him more, I wanted even more to get to the car so I wouldn't keep you waiting too long. I would be a guest, after all.

I jumped into the car, said my hellos, and we went to your house. It being my first time in your house--in anyone's house--I was nervous of course. I would be under an unfamiliar roof, with unfamiliar people; even you quite honestly. I had hung out with you previously approximately 4 times -- two of which was during a movie, the other 2 incidents, there was another guest.

We went to wake up your older sister who was happened to be sick. Poor girl. We went back into your room, only to go on the internet for a good portion of our time. Eventually our conversation had wandered down the path of N--whom we both worried about. I said how I was afraid for her, and how she might become like me and how I didn't want that all. Me now, was scary. I scared me. I hated me. I didn't want her to fall under the same clutches. And in that explanation, the words came tumbling out of my mouth of why my tumblr posts are the way they are. Why I always seem sad. Etc.

I started to cry, and you only listened and hugged me. Then I pushed myself away, only to reveal the real source of my condition. You got up and shut the door, I watched you. You looked at me, I looked at you. I spoke the words that felt too much like clouds and dust in my mouth. You looked at me again, only in disbelief and shock and held me close. I began to shake and cry uncontrollably. The nightmare was replaying on the walls of my skull. You laid me down next to you and held me, stroked my hair, and just let me cry. I'm happy that you did that. There was nothing else to explain, nothing else you could say to something like that, but you picked the right thing to do, in my opinion.

We stayed like that for quite some time. You spoke reassuring words, and your own personal demons.

Eventually, I fixed myself up and you got your grandmother to make us cups of tea, along with animal crackers. We went swimming, and after we just sat on the front porch and just chatted about ourselves. We got to know each other more and more witch each word that fell from our tired mouths. We became even closer and closer since then.

12 August 2011; Friday

We had created plans to go the mall. We smelled candles and went to Starbucks. It was pleasant and fun.

13 August 2011; Saturday

I slept over your house. I was nervous about asking my parents, because they always said no to such requests. But not this time. I got lucky. The gods approved of the bond we forged together out of pain and suffering and felt it only necessary to provide us with the company of each other, as we had no one else--as if they felt that now was the time for us to stop feeling this way and it was time for us to move on.

I had left my house around 5 with shorts that we had purchased together the night before, in a simple outfit that seemed to 'formal' or 'cute' for everyday wear. But that's how I usually dress.

I appeared smiling at your door. It had been raining all day. A was at your house. She and Y were getting ready for a night out at work, while we just chatted and watched. You sat at the laptop and commanded I sat on your lap because you wanted to show me something. Your mother walked in, looked at us, and said "Huge." It was rather hysterical.

Y and A left. We got ready ourselves, and left. Your dates had cancelled, but we still had a pleasant time. We went to starbucks and talked about music. We made our way onto Marshalls only to smell candles. It was fun, and a good memory. We left with a pair of headphones and earphones.

Your mother picked us up and we went back to your house. She had prepared Russian food, which was quite good. I was afraid, not for tasting reasons, but for other reasons. But for you, it was worth the risk. After we went up to Y's room and plugged in the laptops and just went on Chatroulette and Tumblr all night.

Eventually, our conversation got lost and I found myself opening up again. It wasn't as bad as the last time, but still had quite the impact. It was already about 3AM, and you crawled into bed and beckoned me over. I huddled closely. I felt my eyelids become heavy, and I fell asleep for a couple of minutes before I asked a serious question. You answered honestly, and I drifted back into sleep.

Later, Y had come home and looked into the room. You had gotten up and was back at the desk, and I was by myself in the bed. You only look backed and smiled, and motioned how cute I had been when I slept. I got up again, and we both wished Y and A a good night before they went to bed, and we made our way back to your room. I cuddled up against the wall, and you had the outside of the bed.

I woke up early the next morning, after saying how badly I wanted to sleep in. It was only 9, but there was no use going back to sleep. I got up, brushed my teeth, washed my face and sat mindlessly at the laptop until you woke up much, much later. You felt bad, but I assured you it was fine. I was used to it.

We had breakfast when you got up, and joined Y and A for a movie. It was long and wierd, but still nice. It was a rainy day in cuddling with you and that was fine. Moments I had left, you, Y and I had spoken about our distaste for N that was developing. I left. It was a good weekend.

20 August 2011; Saturday


The birthday party at your house for only family members was happening. I was the only one who wasn't family who had attended. I felt special. It was also my grandmother's birthday party, which I had wanted to show my face for even a little bit at least, out of respect.

I arrived late, everyone was already drunk. But I enjoyed the greeting I got when I arrived. So full of love. So full of life.

We talked, and I was introduced to all your family. They were all lovely really. Your mother insisted I ate, and I tried the best I could.

Later, we sat by the pool, only to get pushed in. Our clothes getting soaked. I wasn't mad, we figured right after we might as well go in as well. When we did, though, it was too cold. So we crossed the street only to use the hot tub for a amount of time. Eventually we got out again, and dried off for the final time. You gave me your clothes, you gave me your concern.

I felt really close to you that day. Not because I had your clothes on my back, but because I was the only non-family member there. You were having two separate parties for that, but I was invited to both. I was part of the family.

We spent the rest of the night with Y while she packed for NY the next day. I prayed hoping you would have a good birthday despite that.

23 August 2011; Tuesday


Instructed driving has led me to your house again. I felt bad this time though. I didn't mean to come on such short notice, I didn't mean to intrude even more than I already had. I felt like I was walking on glass. We stayed on the laptop all day. We experienced an earthquake together that day.

Later, I got very quiet, and I found the words to get it out. I cried, and you listened. We stayed on the couch and you let me cry. You wiped my tears, you took care of me again. I felt bad for that. But I'm still glad you took the time to listen to me.

26 August 2011; Friday


Hurricane watch is in effect.

Your party for only friends is today. I arrived late only because I had been invited to another party beforehand. Your mother greeted me at the door and said I would help take care of the party.

I liked your friends.

You whispered to me that N had been impersonating me all day, and then asked me to bring a bathingsuit when she already had one. I got mad, I got back. It's ok.

The whole time, I was pretty much by myself, being the oldest one there and not knowing anyone. I tried to stick by your side as much as I could. I didn't mind, though. Being alone. Because even though I was alone, I didn't feel lonely. I knew you were there waiting for me, in the back of your mind. At least, that's what I told myself.

I was one of the last to leave, and as I went to tell your mother I was leaving, she hugged me and thanked me for being such a big help. I was happy I was of use to someone.

It was a good day. I felt good.

2 September 2011 - 3 September 2011; Friday night


Friday was alright. Everyday was the same. My self-hate was growing. The voices are getting stronger. But I can't stop it. I only do what I can. It took over that night.

I texted you.

11:43 PM : I would like to let you know that I'm gone. There's no more me here anymore. There's no more me anywhere. Silence and sadness swallowed me whole while pumping my blood and thoughts into another body. I don't know who I am. I don't know where I am. I just know I'm not here. I'm not there. I'm not anywhere. I love you. I'm sorry."

11:45 PM: DIANNE. YOU'RE SCARING ME. Stop whatever you're doing.

6 missed calls.

11:49 PM: Dianne please please please answer me.

12 missed calls.

11:58 PM: I'm coming to your house. Please please don't do anything. Please.

18 missed calls.

I didn't believe you. You showed up at my house with tennis team girls. You had one of them get my number from a mutual friend.

You came rushing into my house and sat on my bed across from me and asked what was wrong. I couldn't say anything. I couldn't say a goddamn thing. I used my cellphone to tell you that no voice is there. I kept telling you to go back because they're waiting. You refused. You told me to tell you to what's going on in my head, but I couldn't. I only pointed at my journal.

I couldn't keep up being mute. I grabbed a notebook and a pen.

Me: Just read anywhere I don't care. You'll see when you read it.

I feel bad they're waiting for you outside.

You said let them wait. You said you wouldn't leave me. Not til you know I was ok.

Me: I don't know what else to say after that.I can tell you to go back, but you won't.They might be there a long time if you don't go and they won't like me and it'll be my fault and I don't want to burden you even more than I already have.

You told me they could leave if they wanted to. You told me you couldn't because you were scared. You were scared you were gonna lose me.

Me: You won't lose me.

"How am I not losing you? You can't even talk to me."

I couldn't talk because the voice that would come out didn't feel like mine. The voice that would come out felt like nails being clawed against my windpipe, clasping it shut, telling me to shut the fuck up because I had no room to talk. I was worthless and a piece of shit. Why should I have to talk.

Me: I'm losing words.

Help me.

I don't know what else to do.

I don't know what else to say.

I'm shaking.

I can't see my tears are in the way.

All I hear is my heart in my head and all I feel is heavy.

I don't know what to do with myself right now. I don't want to keep them waiting you can go.

They left because you told them to. You told me you wouldn't leave me. That you would stay the whole night if you had to, just to make sure I was okay.

Me: Your parents will hate me.

You wrote "I love you." And told me who cares what they thought? You just asked me what was going on in my head. You begged me to talk. You grabbed both of my hands and begged me. I forced with what strength I had, my own voice out in a whisper.

Me: "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

and I bent over and cried on top of your hands. I kept apologizing for being the way I am. For being sad. For being annoying. For ruining your night. For making you come here like this. For everything. I spilled all my tears onto the back of your hands.

Then I stopped and started writing again.

I wrote as it appeared. I let my hands move mindlessly.

Me: This is hard to talk about.

My parents created a void in me growing up.

They were never there.

Even now.

They're still not there.

L made it worse.

But that's my fault.

"That's not your fault."

N and L have the same personality.

I can't look at her without being reminded of him.

"Then don't be friends with her. Don't talk to her."

Marching band.

Papa's mad at me.

He never gets mad.

But he's mad at me.

Mama hates me.

She said so herself.

I bet papa hates me too.

I'm such a disappointment.

At that instant, you grabbed the notebook from my hand, and crossed out the words disappointment and filled it in with the words;

"Joy to have in life."

You figured talking to me wasn't working. Writing would be the only way.

You: Stop saying you're nothing. You are EVERYTHING to me. you don't need papa or mama. You can depend on me. I promise you. I LOVE YOU.


Me: But I'm hurting you.

I can't forgive myself for that.

You: NO. YOU ARE NOT HURTING ME. Dianne, I PROMISE, I will always be here for you. You NEVER hurt me EVER. I swear on my life you are one of my most important people in my life. You can never get me upset. No matter what state you're in, I'll be here. You can't blame yourself for feeling like this I PROMISE. I love you and ALWAYS will. No matter what's going on in your head. You and I will always be BEST FRIENDS. I don't care what my other friends think or what my parents think. You shouldn't either. Just know, Dianne Dancel, I love you forever.


Me: I love you too. So much. And I'm sorry if I'm sad and clingy.

You: DONT BE SORRY FOR YOUR FEELINGS.

Me: fine.

I'm sorry I'm clingy and annoying and that I'm 16 and you're taking care of me like this.

Listen,

Even though I always say I'm sorry.

I want you to know that even more than that I want to say

Thank you

I just don't have the strength to say it yet.

But that's what I really want to say

Thank you.

You: STOP saying that you're clingy or annoying. When I say I'm there for you, I mean it. When I say I'd rather have you happy than myself happy, I mean it. When I say I love you, I MEAN IT. Don't think of our age difference I care for you. I love all of you. Even the bad mind... Well I don't love it there but if it's in you, I love it. (secretly hate that thing though) I want to take all the bad things and put it away and replace it with good/happy things.

Me: read the last 3 posts.

I pulled up this blog onto my phone and made you read. They were all about you. I could see you had tears in your eyes. Your parents pulled into the driveway, and you told them hold on.

As you finished reading, and we were about to go outside, you stopped me and told me to close the door again. You hugged me. You held me. For a long time. You held me tight, and made sure I was still there in your arms. That I wasn't disappearing. That I wasn't gone. You told me I'd be strong. You told me you loved me. You kissed me on the forehead.

I love you so much.

We went out to your parents.I walked up to the passenger seat window, and I told them with a smile, "I'm so sorry about that." And your parents only looked at me and said, "Don't be sorry about that. It's okay. We're here for you. We love you."

Bewildered at the response, I had no idea how to respond.

Me: Oh my gosh, don't say that. /laugh. You're gonna make me cry

And surely enough the tears started to spill over the brims of my eyes again. Mama had grabbed my face and kissed me on the cheeks.

Her: You are still young and pretty and tiny. Just whatever you think, always think about your future and how you're gonna have a good life.

And held my hand. Papa held my other hand.

Him: Just don't think about the bad things. Think about yourself. Think about your future and what you're gonna be. Listen pumpkin, we love you. Our house, everything we have, its yours too.

Her: I like you so much Dianne. Please don't do anything.

And she kissed me more on the cheeks.

Him: Listen, you do anything, I'm gonna kick your ass. If I find out you do anything stupid. Just watch, I'm gonna kick you.

I laughed.

Her: Stop crying now. It's better when you smile. You're so pretty. You're tiny. You're a good person remember that.

Me: I'm done crying now.

You: She got her braces off too!

Her: Yes, and she's you're so cute too.

Him: It looks good.


Her: You wanna come home with us?

Me: I can't.

Her: Well if I can take you home with us I can. Just know that.


She was holding both my hands now.

Her: Listen to me Dianne. Remember You're pretty, you're small, you can do anything you want. Just don't do anything or my husband will kick your ass. And you know my husband. Promise me you're not gonna do anything.

And she gripped my hands tightly.

Me: I promise.

I smiled and gripped with what strength I had.

Her: That doesn't feel like a promise

Him: Pinky promise!

I squeezed harder.

Her: Dianne we love you. Anything. Any problem you have we're here for you ok.

Me: Ok

I said with a smile.

You stood and waited during the whole conversation, and before you got in the car. You hugged me again, and told me you loved me. Your parents told me they loved me too.

I started walking back towards the house, you started driving down the road. Mama yelled

"YOU'RE PRETTY!"

That made me smile.

Surely enough, it was already 1:18AM by the time you left. You had been with me for an hour. And that has been the most important hour to me in all of my life.

Surely enough, you are something much more to me than anyone I have ever met. More than my family, more than past loves, more than life itself. You saved me. You keep saving me. You bring me a calm I've never felt before. I love you so much.

Surely enough, this was the summer I jumped into the fire.

It's been the first time,

in a long while

since I've been

alone

in a room full of people

and I didn't feel

lonely.

I wasn't sure how I felt at the time.


I was sad, but surely, I was happy too.


You asked me what was wrong, and I only looked at you and nodded my head nothing. You looked at me with sad eyes. I looked back at you and smiled a sad smile. You came up close to my face. I smiled a real smile. You continued to watch TV. I happened to mutter the words that have been floating around inside my head for the past week or so, "You know. I really hate you sometimes." You looked at me in shock, smiled, and asked why. I looked blankly away from you and said spoke: 


Me: Because. The other day, I was having a really hard time, you know? I kept hearing the bad things in my head. To do something. To slice my wrists open. I practically had to force myself to eat too. It was hard. But  I thought of you. And how I couldn't do that. Because it would make you sad. And if you were sad, then I would be sad too. I wouldn't be able to bear the thought of my own selfishness causing you pain. 
D: You're right. I'm glad you didn't do anything. 


You smiled and walked over behind me and held me. 


You didn't have to do that. It must have been awkward, with me bent over the table and all. But you did anyway. It was nice. 


The clock, went off and I chuckled at the sound that came from it. 


D: I should you buy you an awkward clock like that, so that every hour it would go off and you'd smile and laugh. And you'd be happy 24 hours a day.


You cradled me in your arms and carried me over to the other room. You were strong and warm. You gently laid me on the couch, which was cool on my skin, despite the fact that I was already cold. I didn't mind though, it felt really nice. I turned my body to face the couch, where you couldn't see my face.


I just talked and talked. You listened. I'm glad.

I talked about what I heard in my head. My daily thoughts. The things I go through on a daily basis. How hard it is. How you are the first I ever have opened up to. How much you mean to me. How I don't want to let anyone down. How everything felt like it was closing in on me. How I'm scared. Just. Everything. 

I didn't look directly at you. I was too ashamed. I caught glances though. You looked at me through sad, hazel eyes. God, you had beautiful eyes, and they were looking at me--a hideous creature who knew nothing but sadness and tears. I felt really lucky that of all the people in the world, it was me you were looking at at that moment. 

I talked more. You listened more.

I spoke until there wasn't anything to hide.

I told you not to worry. 

I wouldn't cry.

I wouldn't have an anxiety attack either.

I told you. I told you how scary it was the other day. To feel like I was disappearing.

How she was becoming more and more like me and I felt like I was becoming less and less like me. If she was me, and I was me then what would be left? I would become nothing. 

But you told me I wouldn't. 

You told me she was jealous of me. That everyone was jealous of me. You confessed that I influenced your taste in fashion. 

But more importantly, 

you told me there would be only one me. 

The me who you thought was beautiful, and that would be even more beautiful once my braces came off. 

You told me you loved seeing a smile on my face, and hearing my laugh. 

You told me, there would be only one me, and that you'd always be there for this me.  

You told me that you would always love the me that I am.

You told me you wanted to come see me on your bike, but your parents wouldn't let you. The thought was more than enough.

I let warm tears cut my face. And I felt your warm hands on my cool skin, comforting me.

I looked up at you. You've been looking at me with those eyes.

D: What do you want to be when you get older?

Me: Dead.

And I turned away from your gaze.

Me: I can't even look at you and say the words because it hurts too much to see your pained face.

After I told you that I was trying so hard to hold on. But that I couldn't let go. Because I wanted to see you again. Along with Ms. S, Mr. C, Mr. J, and Mr. Z. I wanted all of you to see me again. I wanted to see all of you again. I wanted you all to see me again when I wasn't like this. But it was getting so hard. It was getting so confusing. 

And in the moment of silence when the tears kept streaming down. You were playing with my hair.

I muttered the words, "I'm sorry I'm like this. I'm sorry I'm sad." And the tears spilled out again. You wiped my hair, you wiped my tears. You told me, "Don't ever feel sorry for being sad. It's not your fault. You can't help it."

Then you spoke again:

D: No matter what you think of yourself, I will always think you're the best. Always. I love you.

And you kissed me on the forehead.

And I curled up into a ball and cried again. I was so overwhelmed with emotion. I wanted desperately to tell you I love you. I wanted even more to tell you thank you. But the words never came. They stopped at my throat and disappeared.

You, whom I've known the shortest amount of time, has told me enough things that will stick with me for a lifetime.

I looked up. You looked as if you were in some faraway place when I looked back at you again.

Me: What are you thinking?
D:Thinking of ways to make you happy
Me: I am happy. I'm happy I'm here with you right now. I'm happy I met you.

I let go of my ball and lay flat on my back. You put the hair away from my face and kept wiping my tears.You looked only at me, and I looked only at you. 

I wasn't sure how I felt at the time.

I was sad, but surely, I was happy too. 

Cassis,

I always did nothing but repeatedly make you sad.
Surely I hurt even you; I cannot move.
Why is it this painful to touch you?
Surely it's because I'm afraid that I'll repeat the same things and end up losing you.

I was trying to wipe them away by getting close to you: the days I could not forget.
You squeezed this hand without listening to a single word.
Even if tomorrow your feelings are distant, surely I'll love you unchangingly.
Even if tomorrow you're unable to see me, surely I'll love you unchangingly.
I will walk together, to the future not promised.
It keeps walking together to the future in which you are . . . 
I think of you until
I can forget even the harsh things.
Each time I count the nights on which we cannot meet
my heart yearns for you.
Inviting the loneliness of conflict, please, do not cry all alone.
No matter how far apart, let's be the couple who believes.

Please, I want to be laughing just like this.
Don't let me hurt you.
As time went on we were fading:
I don't want to repeat that thought.
Even if tomorrow your feelings are distant,
surely I'll love you unchangingly.
Even is tomorrow you're unable to see me,
surely I'll love you unchangingly.
Please, gaze only at me.
Please, I hope these hands do not come apart.			

I will walk together, the future not promised
It keeps walking together, to the future in which you are . . .

Thank you.

Thank you.

I've never had the strength

to tell you yet.

Not in person.

Not to your face.

Not yet.

But I'm making a promise,

that when I become strong,

when I can stand on my own again--

I'll be the one taking care of you.

Thank you.

So much.

For taking care of me.

For holding me when

I was shaking,

For holding my hand when I felt so weak and cold.

For kissing me on the forehead when my world 

felt like it was going to crumble,
For wiping away tears from my tired eyes,

For always loving me.

Thank you.

And I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I am this way.

I'm sorry that you have to take care of me the way you do.

It should be the other way around.

But don't leave me.

Not yet.

I promise.

I'll get strong again.

I'll get better.

And then it'll be me taking care of you.

And everything will be right.

And I'll finally be happy.

But even if you do leave me,

for some strange reason,

I'll still care for you the way I do now.

I'll still continue to love you the same way I do now.

And I'll always hope for your happiness.

And your smiling face.

Please, be happy .

I already don't sleep enough as it is
and
this storm that's going on
outside my window doesn't help much either.

Too many noises going off at once.

The voices in my head.
The screams of distant memories echoing throughout my skull.

My eyes are tired.

The rain hitting loudly
on my window
with seeds of torment.

The wind blowing,
crashing and colliding
with everything in its path.

The lightning flickering
with flashbacks of nightmares
in each spark.

Thunder
brings out another ghost
one
by
one
by
one.

There's nothing I can do
but wait it out.
Or try to sleep.
Which is pretty much impossible at this point.

Maybe the storm will eat me.

As if my night couldn't get any worse,
As if enough things weren't stressing me enough.

This is pushing it.

Nausea is creeping up my throat again.
My vision is fading in and out.
My skin itches and burns.
I'm so dirty.

Band camp all week.

Tell someone everything

and fall in love.

This can't be happening.

Good day.

Beach day was good.

Standstill.

I've felt better lately,
I guess you could say.
I mean, I'm not as upset as I used to be,
and I don't cry as much as I used to,
but my mindset hasn't changed.


Maybe it was just cause
of the stress during the school year
with
grades,
lack of sleep,
people around me,
expectations,
etc.


Or maybe
now
I'm just used to it.
Either way,
both things are bad no matter
how you look at it.


Right?

So, I'm getting my braces off next month, yay!
I lied when I said I had only one broken only one bracket,
but the lady didn't squeal on me when she found the other.
She's nice.
But I'm excited,
and kind of sad.

Another chapter in my life
will finally be over
3 years.
Gone
and
forgotten.

And I've been down all week.

Maybe I can blame it on the weather.
Maybe I can blame it on my family.
Maybe I can blame it on myself.
Maybe there is no one to blame.

It's warm.
I'm warm.

And there's warm blood pumping through my body,
but,
There are tears
frozen
behind my eyelids.

I've been okay lately,
not as bad as I have been these past
year
couple of months.
I haven't cried about the things I usually do.
I haven't thought about the things I usually do.
Maybe that's good.

I've been sick the past week of summer vacation.
Kind of sucks,
second week of summer vacation sick!
Just my luck.

I had a dream last night.
I had a dream last night that
I was
very very
sad.
I walked out my house
and up the street
with my glossy eyes.
I saw you come out your house,
orange and white pin-stripe blouse,
glasses set off to a slight tint,
your short, standing, silver hair combed over to the left,
and blue jeans.
I approached you.
wrapped my arms around you,
and buried my face in the space below your chest.
You were warm
and
I was cold.
Cold tears stained the front of your blouse,
and you picked me up
and
held me like you would trying to comfort a baby.
I wrapped my arms around your neck,
and cried into your left shoulder.
You are warm
so
so
warm.
I am cold.
So
so
cold.

Can I stay here
and
cry
just a little bit longer?

ラッドウインプス

RADWIMPS ラッドウインプス !! 
Another Japanese band that I discovered about an hour ago~
I fell in love with them instantly.
I wish I could have some merch from them like posters and CDs and DVDs!! 
That'd be great :)


The song that got me : 

I need to know what that song is called so I can look up translations!
In any case, they have a great sound and every song I've listened to so far is great<3
I wish I knew Japanese, hmph.

I cried tonight, 

and

what I thought was

tears

dripping into my mouth

was actually

blood.

There's such a lack of control in my life,

I almost
kind of
sort of
can't
stand it.

Every time
I try to take control
I lose more control

I can't win.

I am out of control.

I just got out the car from driving,

and was standing on the sidewalk because my dad was going to park the car

then Mr. V drove by

and waved hi to me.

It made me happy.

Our last days

The dead days are shaking again
Speaking, yes, those days are also over.
You've been far, that also remains to disappear
"Someday I will forget this day," was said.
Those with their backs to the wind, just like an adult
We forget them.
Today seems to be gradually falling to night
We will wash away the tears, isn't that what we thought?
You looked back and waved with your small hand.
Yesterday, with repentance, will be big in style
This pain will, with downcast eyes intact
Forget, forget it.
You've been far, that also remains to disappear
"Someday I'll remember this day," was said.
Those with their shoes pointed down, just like a setting sun dyed red
We forget them.

My mind is filled with a deep haze of fatigue, melancholy, and a subtle wave of nostalgia. I have not slept within the last day or so. The most I got out of last night was about a half an hour. I need to take care of myself more.

The most anticipated, but most painful day of the school year; the last day. Bonds that had been forged together and strengthened must now be loosened and undone in order to move onto the new year. No one will be forgotten, but when things come back, nothing will be the same. Everyone will have found new friends and the closeness that we all once shared before would be shattered by the separation and solitude of summer days.

I've always felt like the end of the school year was oddly strange. When you leave, it always felt like you were left hanging on a thin piece of string, looking back on what you've left and wondering what's left at the end of the line. Time has run out but it's still going.

I stayed up all night making last minute touches onto the plans that I have orchestrated among my peers. T-shirts and stuffed animals and letters and jars of stars. Everything for a teacher who has given a great amount of inspiration and motivation to me as a person.

I had planned it out thoroughly and assigned everyone in the class roles. I wanted this to be as sentimental as possible without being corny, also, I wanted this to be something to leave behind as a good note. I didn't want to leave my crying face as the last memory embedded into her eyelids. I wanted to leave behind something so great, so happy, so she could forget the me that I've already left behind.

I woke up from a 25 minute nap to shower and prepare myself for what was planned ahead of me. Mr. J was up first. I had given him his jar of stars, neutral colored, and then pink on top for his beloved daughter. Even though I have only ever seen her once, and only hear of her, I care about her a lot and hope for a kind and happy future for her. She deserves it. Her father is a great man.

I visited Mr. C for the last couple minutes before homeroom sweet; the last couple minutes we would talk for months. He pretended to sob, for whatever reason, that was embarrassing, but he also hugged me. A secure hug of reassurance and genuine kindness and care. I could feel it. He told me that I'd be okay over the summer, he believed in me. And that was the last I saw of him that day. I already miss having someone to talk to. Maybe.. I'll see him around if he ever comes to visit Mr. V down the street. Maybe I'll see them both and we'll all talk -- as neighbors and people. Even if it is only for five minutes, that's enough for me.

I visited Mr. B along with JP to give his cake. Next year was his last year, and we wanted to wish the best to him. Plus, I liked him a lot. Despite my lack of words as a person, he's grown a liking to me, or so I'd like to believe. He knew nothing, but knew something. He was always asking if I was okay, and giving me motivational words, and never pushing me to say anything I didn't need to, and letting me stay in his classroom during lunches. It really meant a lot to me, that he did that and all. We took a photo with him, which I think came out lovely. He put his arms around us and gave a big smile. It caught me off guard. He always seemed so distant that I never even thought he would do that. Thanks Mr. B. I didn't take your class next year, but I'll be around. You can count on it.

The day went on and I was almost sad for my 2nd block teacher whom I've claimed to hate for most of the semester. She's actually a decent person, and the kids in my class just brought out the worst in her. I felt bad that I had left the impression that I did, but at least I was on her better side, I guess. I hope she has fun in France for vacation, that her future students will be much kinder to her than we ever were, and that she gets her masters and reaches her professional goals. Oh, and I wish her happiness.

3rd block was mostly solitude and silence. I have no one in that class that I'm really close to. No one to really miss, honestly.

4th block. This is it. The class that has it all. The laughter, the tears, the inside jokes, you name it. The class that was most memorable. The one I will never forget. If I ever get to be grown up, I'll look back on these days and smile.

We started out the class normally until Ms. C came in and took Ms. S out for about 5 minutes. We all assembled ourselves accordingly, and I took a video. We presented our gifts to Ms. S. Boxes, and jars, and notes, and lions, and jars of stars.

We sang and sang and laughed and laughed until the bell rang. She yelled, "Don't go!" And that killed me. I had given her my painting, my bracelets, and my letter. I told her to read it. I had to be there when she read it. At first, I was concerned about my bus and ran out to check it, she yelled, "I love you Dianney!"  of course I yelled back ,"I love you too!" But I ran back into the classroom and figured I didn't care whether I missed it or not. It was the last day of school after all. It was actually a lot longer than I thought it was, the letter, but that didn't matter. She read it all. She laughed and smiled, and then she started to tear up and sniffle. I did too. She was reading part of the inside of my mind, the part that no one, not even I, can figure out. She was in it, and reading it, and was being pulled down by the waves of emotions that I felt. All the words and thoughts that I kept trapped inside my head were being let free among pieces of purple paper, reflected into the retinas her blue blue eyes, and released again by a shallow pool of tears. She gave me a reaction that I didn't even expect. She looked up at me and said, and said "Wow. That was really long, but. It was so nice. I'm definitely keeping this." And she walked up to me, and embraced me in her arms, "Thank you. Thank you so much." And we stayed like that for a minute. I could only cry and let out a sob of, "Thank you." I didn't even understand why she was thanking me. I wrote a letter thanking her, why would she thank me? We held each other tight, repeating the same things and we broke apart. I tried to explain more what I felt inside my head, but it came out wrong and I looked like an idiot. But it doesn't matter.

She told me that I could still talk to her over the summer if I needed to. That I could email her and that I need to visit a ton next year. Of course I would do all of that. Of course I would.

I ended up walking home. From the school to my house is about three miles, which isn't so bad, considering I run two. This boy walked home with me. We talked and talked about this and that, but most of it didn't really register into my head. I was still am spaced out from then, really. He insisted on buying me ice cream after I had said no so many times. I don't eat ice cream, but he got so goddamn annoying I just went along with it eventually. I was mad at him at that point. I wanted him to leave me alone. I wanted the walk home to just hurry up so he can leave me alone. And he wants to have pizza with me someday. Tch. I finally told him kindly I had not taken care of myself the past night and that I should rest up because I still had things to do that day. He let me leave and I've been ignoring him since then. Shallow and rude, but I can't have this.

The last day keeps replaying on the inside of my eyelids and I smile. The warmth of her hug is imprinted onto my body, her smile is etched behind my eyelids, and her voice is echoing in the walls of my ear canals. I smile and laugh because I had reason to now. And then I cry. I cry and cry and the tears swim out because of the anguish of separation and the distance of time. I tell myself it's only the summer, and I roll over and replay everything in my head again.

It took me three days to write this ever since it happened. I started tonight and ended now, almost 3 days later. Am I really running out of words to say? If that's the case then I'm absolutely terrified. I want to cry.

Everything
is
slipping
away
through my
fingertips;

Time,
Hope,
Life.

Just like sand.

Just like sand.

The days are counting down
The clock is changing hands
The sand is running.

Somewhere,
Someone is crying.

Mal nourishment.

Walking into that old building, everything was humid and disgusting. I didn't remember it ever being that bad, and so I was thankful to be moved to the Senior High for my sophomore year. I'm back here because it's an orientation for upcoming freshman, like my brother. I went only because I knew I would see Mr. Z and Mr. C there, at least I hoped I would. I didn't know what to expect, and if I didn't find them, I figured I would hangout with Dana and Nikki during the time being.

We get in, get papers, etc etc etc. Nikki points out Mr. Z and I leave her for him. I catch up to find out he's giving tours. I go around the school once, until I enter lower B hall, biology hall. I noticed that Mr. C's door was open and got excited. I left the tour and walked into Mr. C's room. The AC was on and he was explaining the curriculum, giving out summer work, and all that boring teacher stuff.

Mr. C : Advanced biology?

Me : shakes head no

Mr. C : Regular biology?

Me : shakes head no

Mr. C: just staring at my face ..Dianne..?

Me : smile. Surprise.

Mr. C: What happened to your hair?! You look so different, but I knew you looked familiar.

Me : Heh..

Parents and upcoming freshman kept streaming in through the doors, and he kept repeating himself more and more every time, same words, sentences and everything. I felt bad for him, he must've hated it. I got sick of it eventually, and at some points there would be too many people so I got up and walked around the school some more. I caught up to Mr. Z a couple of times, but he was doing the same thing, only with tours. God, these things must be a real pain in the ass. Eventually I left him too and sat in Mr. C's room some more. More parents and students, and I left again.

I did this for a while, until one point I found Mr. Z in the hall by himself, not giving out tours to anyone. I walked up to him nervously. I was shaking, I could feel it. He looked at me and said, "Your hair." He smiled at me. "Let us walk."

We walked down the hallway into his classroom, which was, thankfully, air conditioned. I think I would have died of a heat stroke or suffocation if it wasn't. He asked me how I was doing, and I told him the truth. Horrible.

We sat and talked about this and that and this and that. I told him how I've been screwing up, making mistakes all over, ruining my own life, and getting help and things like that. He kept trying to encourage me, but it wasn't working. He tried doing so by bringing up future scenarios of me moving out and going to college. He said if I screw up now, it won't happen and I'll be stuck home.

Mr. Z : What are you going to do after high school, huh?

Me : Die. Just kidding. I don't know.

Mr. Z : Looking straight at me. Don't die.

The conversation went on like that. He told me that I needed to take care of myself and exercise and not skip lunch. He told me I could be feeling bad because of mal nourishment, could you believe that? He kept pursuing that topic and telling me I needed to eat and stuff. I knew chemical imbalances could happen in the brain due to a lack of nourishment in your body, but it didn't phase me. I always had crappy eating anyway. He already knew that. So I don't know why he kept being really harsh and focused on that single topic.

He kept talking to me, trying to bring me up while I was dragging myself down. Trying to bring me up out of the hole I put myself in before it got too deep. He said some things that still are floating around the fractured walls of my skull.

Mr. Z : If I could. I would turn back time and making my parents treat me even shittier than they already did if it meant your parents would be less shitty and you could be happier, then I would. I really would if I could, but I can't. I just can't do that. The best I can do is help you now. and I mean, the last time I checked up on you in November, you said everything was doing great. You know, I was doing better, and staying stronger knowing that, but now I'm not so sure. Remember what you wrote to me? "Be strong for me, I'll be strong for you." You didn't think I would throw that away, did you? I'm being strong for you, so please be strong for me.

It really got to him. His eyes were watering an red and his nose was running. He grabbed my hand and held it tightly and kept talking. His held my hand tightly in his with a tight grip, but not full of anger and malice or handled roughly, but with tenderness an kindness and caution. Every time he held my hand like that I felt so goddamn safe. Whenever he was holding my hand like that, I didn't feel so alone. I felt like he would protect me from all the bad things and keep them away from me the best he could. Even if he couldn't successfully keep them away, his genuine effort in doing so was more than enough compensation to make up for it and I would be okay. I wouldn't be mad or upset with him. I would tell him it would be alright and thank you, and that was all.

"You're not gonna give up are you? Please don't give up. Promise me. Dianne, if you give up on me now, it'll be so much harder for me to get by. You can't give up. Please, please don't give up."

And he wrapped his pinky finger around mine, and made me promise not to give up. Not yet. His pinky held the same strong yet tender grip. I wish I could've stayed like that forever. I looked out the window and back at him, and he looked at me with deep concern and care, and.. love? 

I told him I him I was near giving up, and I didn't know if I could keep going. But I still promised him I would. I said I'd try because it's just so goddamn hard lately. He said there was no try and tried more phrases of encouragement.

His eyes were getting redder and redder, and water was spilling over the brims, and his nose was turning rosy while I could hear him stifling the mucus that wished to pour out.

That damn near broke my heart. I felt guilty for even saying the truth.

But since the last time he's seen me, I probably look really sick and all now. From seeing me nearly everyday for 3 years, with the changes in my physical and emotional development, he had already a strong mental image of me in his head. Dark hair, round face, skinny. Now he sees me seldom once or even twice a year during football season, and everything changed since them. My bones protruding all over the place, my once chubby legs now even thinner than they ever were, barely even touching each other, bruised knees and tired eyes with dark shades of purple circling them and things like that. And my dark hair that he liked so much was gone. It was all probably a real big kick in the head and all. To see me look so different than what image he had already in his head. I looked even thinner now as a 16 year old sophomore in high school, than I ever was as a 6th, 7th, and 8th grader in middle school. My drastic 180 change in physical appearance and mental/emotional state together probably was  too much for him to take in at once. I felt guilty even being me.

We finally had to stop talking eventually. Of course, all good things come to an end. I found my brother and father sitting out on the front steps of the school and he walked me out. He held my hand another time and told me it'll be okay. We argued about, he tried to bring me up again, but I wasn't feeling it. He walked back inside and I walked in front of my father and brother. They said, "Let's go?" But my feet said no. I took off into the hallway, sprinting back to Mr. C's room. 

Only one parent and two students were left. I was still shaken from my previous chat with Mr. Z. I took a seat up on the counter. It was cool on my legs and felt good. This mom won't shut up. And he's still explaining the same things. I felt so bad for him. Finally, they stopped and I got a chance to talk to him. I told him how I've been doing bad lately, but we didn't get too in depth into what was going on. I liked that about him. He was always positive too, trying to steer away the negativity out of my direction. He played around and said he should smack me in the head with a ruler and straighten up my priorities and grades. I laughed. Being around him always seemed to bring out good vibes. I told him I had to get going, and he hugged me and told me to come visit him again soon. I told him I would. We chatted a couple more minutes about my emotional state. He said teen angst and I laughed and joked with him, "It's my frontal lobe. That's what they always tell me. From it not being fully developed and all. And won't be until I'm twenty something." I got a real kick talking to him about stuff like that. He told me he was double developed because he was in his fourties. He told me he'd try to go to football games, which made me sorta happy. If he didn't, then he didn't. But at least he had the sense to make it seem like he would. and that he ate lunch with Ms. Z. He thought she was nice. I finally said I had to go, and we hugged again. He wished the best of luck and wishes for me to get better. He told me he didn't get rid of my pictures and drawings and they were still hanging in the back. That made me happy. I miss him a lot, and I'm glad I had the chance to talk to him one on one, even if it was just for a few minutes.

Nostalgia is bursting through my blue veins, through my cold blood, and echoing through my fractured skull.