September 3, 2002
I Could Not Think Of A Title Because This Is Useless

Most people are expecting a big thing on my first day of highschool, aren't you. Well, I'll let you know that I won't be doing anything of the sort. I know, I know. You're all waiting impatiently for an update because you're sick of my crying and whining, and want some funny. It's too bad my sense of humor is dwindling nowadays. Oh you know it. It's another cry for help.

Yeah, I really didn't like the first day. But I figure if I write about that when I haven't gone through 4 years of it, all my older readers will rag on me. "Hey, it's only one day give it a chance!" is not what I want to hear right now.

I'd like some medicine... so that, you know, I don't go balistic suddenly in the middle of class, trying to stab my arm with pens and leaving big scratch marks along my face. Man would that suck. Unfortunately, my psychologist can't prescribe me any... so I'm probably going to have to get a referral from her to a psychiatrist, who'll have to see if it's appropriate for me to even take medicine. Wouldn't that be horrible if after weeks of waiting, months even, since I wanted medicine back in March, that they just said "Um, no. We've decided that you're a normal kid so go home and suck it up." Oh man, heads would roll. Then again, it would be funny if when they say that, I go nuts and they're all "You're right, you need help!"

...I've got to stop thinking.

I'm honestly worried that some day soon, I'll be digging into my arm and not even know it, not even feel it. I hope someone else does. I hope someone else sees my fingers turning white as I drag a pen across my arm and says "Hey. Stop it." If you do... please bring it to my attention. I don't want to do that to myself.

Shit, I didn't want this to be one of those entries. I'm sure you guys are sick of me complaining about nothing that concerns you. Of course, I've been doing that throughout this entire site and you guys keep asking for more. I'm just sorry this is what it has come to. Satirizing... satire means sarcastic. Sarcastic means Molly is awesome and she has to write really funny stuff because she's really funny. I should call it Oppressive Behavior, because I suck and I write about shit. Ever read Go Ask Alice? I hope it doesn't turn into some big dramatic life for me, then when I die this becomes a window of answers.

I forgot to mention, today during health, we were overlooking the lesson plans for the year, and they have a section on depression and suicide. And all of the sudden I got really nervous and guilty and just kind of slumped back into my chair like I was trying to hide. No one was looking at me, no one was even thinking of me, but I had this feeling like what if deep down inside that's what they were thinking of? Only about 3 people in the room read this, and probably only 2 of them could have put two and two together. I know none of them think about me and this constant problem I've been having, but there's that small chance that they were. Or were they thinking of themselves. Wouldn't that be sad. I hope not.

But though I'm embarrassed and guilty about it, I almost wanted to kind of do a speech for everyone... like "Hey, unless you deal with a problem you have, this is what it can come to", and show them the pale scratches on my arms. Then I'd like to tell everyone what I think about all day, and if they hadn't ever thought about suicide, what it's like to just stand there with your whole life in your hands. And how it can come to the point where you just hate everything, you're thinking "don't look back, this is it." And how suddenly awful you feel, because you think of that certain person you never want to turn your back on. How much it sucks. How much you cry. How much you want it all to go away.

But maybe they all know already. Wouldn't that be sad?

- Molly{7:31 pm}

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