Crazy

I’m not crazy, I’m

Just

Depressed.

I was driving home from guitar lessons today.

I saw Mitch and Patrick going over to the gas station next to the Music Center.

I called out Patrick’s name, but he didn’t say anything.

I got in the car and I could feel my anxiety building up.

My hands were shaking while I drove.

I reached a stop light and as I went to go, a cop raced out in front of me.

I slammed on the breaks.

Fire trucks followed

And I stared in shock and silence.
I cried to Kid Cudi on the radio.

I sat at a stop sign for ten minutes

And

Sobbed.

I’m 17 right now. I’ll wonder when I’ll find this and reread it.

I wonder how stupid I’ll think I am right now.

Who gets sad

Out of nowhere?

I feel like crying but I have to do my homework.

But what’s the point in doing it when my life is going nowhere but down?

Dad tries to understand. Caitlin prays a lot.

Mom makes excuses.

I feel like dying a lot. Is that bad?

On the drive home from guitar lessons,

I sort of hoped my blurred vision would lead me

Into a tree.

The worst part is that I have no reason.

My friends had their reasons when they went through this.

Jenny’s mom beat her; Bailey’s dad was a control freak.

What gives me the right to be sad?

Honor roll student.

Singer.

Photographer.

Twin.

Good daughter and kid in general.

What’s there to cry about?

I don’t know, but I do find myself crying a lot.

Not as much as before they put me on medicine.

But still.

My dad wanted a “holistic” approach.

Antidepressants scare him a little.

They scare me too.

Vitamin D3,

Cardio B,

Fish Oil,

A multi- vitamin,

And 5HTP.

My daily regimen to keep me from killing myself.

I’m close to crying again for the second time tonight.

But I have to get this out somewhere

Before

I

Explode.

My day consists of waking up and dreading school,

Getting more depressed as the day goes on,

And acting like I don’t think about dying.

I’m too scared and too tired to kill myself.

But maybe if I got into a car wreck

It wouldn’t be that bad.

I’d like to die to my favorite song,

With no one around to see me bleed out.

Where I can’t stain carpet,

Or leave a mess,

Or scare whoever found me.

They’d think it was an accident,

And oh God,

That would be beautiful.

No one to see me

Die in shame.

I should probably stop writing because I’m making myself upset.

But at the same time it feels really good to be this sad.

Dad just came to check on me.

I still haven’t touched

That godforsaken homework.

This is what my life has come to-

Depressed narratives and sad indie music.

Jan. 30

I’m watching the music video to “Hate Me” by Blue October.

I’m sad because it applies directly to my life.

The part where his mom finds him on the floor scares me

Because that’s what I want.

I’m constantly torn between

Reaching out to my Ex

And suffering in silence.

You know.

The one who left.

The unresolved issue.

The itch

You

Can’t

Scratch.

And it gets under your skin and it bothers you

Because talking to him means you’re weak and

Not talking to him just kills you.

I’m especially upset because he was my friend, first and foremost.

The one friend who a good listener.

An observer.

A good shoulder to cry on.

It really sucks not having that anymore.

I could always go back-

Tell him I miss his friendship and talking isn’t the same anymore.

Holding a conversation is hard.

But I’m too proud and too scared to do it- pull the trigger. Talk things out.

And by the time I’ve finally thought of the words to say,

Its 2:11 a.m. and he’s asleep.

It wouldn’t be fair of me to re-hash everything with him.

Ask him the questions I never got the answers to.

Why didn’t you just answer the phone?

Why couldn’t we have talked things out?

Why did I have to be so mean?

I can’t ask him those things because it’s been months,

But god,

I still want to know.

Feb. 3

I sent him a long message.

I sounded desperate,

But he said he felt the same.

We missed having long conversations

But so far

Nothing has changed.

Found out he smoked pot when we were together.

I don’t know why it makes me so upset.

I’m on a new antidepressant.

I think it’s helping.

But right now I wish it wouldn’t.

Because I need to cry

But I can’t.

I wish I wasn’t such a screw up.

It’s Superbowl Sunday.

I’m upstairs in my room,

Feeling like death.

What’s new?

Feb. 10

I hate my new antidepressants.

I get low, but never low enough

To get anything out.

Is it bad of me to say

That I miss feeling like shit?

I hate this stupid limbo I’m in.

I’m not happy, and I still feel depressed.

The only difference now is that I can’t complain.

I have no valid excuse.

Jesus Christ.

That’s another thing- where’s God in all of this?

Going to church made me resentful.

It pissed me off.

I hate that Caitlin prays for me-

I hate how our youth group prays for me.

It made me feel like something to be pitied.

I miss my blind faith,

But hating God makes me feel little bit better.

I want to cry so badly.

I want to get upset

And depressed

And angry

And hateful

And sad

And cold.

Dad asks me if I’m ok a lot.

“Feeling better?” he’ll ask with a smile and a squeeze on my shoulders.

“Yeah,” I reply mildly.

But I feel worse, not better.

This medicine makes me feel numb.

I’d rather be suicidal than unfeeling.

I start therapy soon.

Her name is Leslie too.

She’s really nice and understanding.

I don’t want to go.

March 10

I felt like killing myself last Saturday.

Got really close.

I sobbed the whole car ride home.

Dad and Mom held me and told me I had a lot to live for,

But no one can tell me why I can’t stop thinking about it.

I cried in choir on Thursday.

I tried really hard not to.

Kaylee, Lindsey, and Hanah sat by my side

While I tried to calm down.

Told them I couldn’t stop thinking about Saturday.

They made me smile a bit.

But as soon as I got in the car to go home,

It was just like Saturday.

I pulled into a concrete place.

It was the last building on the road,

And I sobbed harder because I had nowhere to go.

I pulled in and cried. I tried to call Brandon,

But he said he couldn’t talk.

I said I wanted to kill myself,

And he said nothing.

He let our relationship die-

I’m not surprised that he’d let me die, too.

As I was calling Brandon, an older man came up to the car.

Asked me if I was alright, if he could help in any way.

I told him I just had to pull over and calm down.

I must have looked hysterical.

I felt really bad for that.

He left, still uneasy.

I called his work.

Let him know

I got home

Ok.

Called dad and told him what happened,

Got gas.

Came home.

I didn’t go to school the next day.

Dad took me Downtown when I missed school.

We ate at the Slippery Noodle.

Went to the camera store I love.

Had a good time.

I think he was scared I was going to do something to myself.

I don’t think he gets

That I’m too much of a coward

To do anything.

We went over the bridge that I planned to drive myself off of on the way home that day.

There was a break in the guardrail-

I thought it was from someone who maybe,

Like me,

Literally drove off the deep end.

I saw a pathway of dirt led up to the break;

You could drive down the path to the field below.

Must have been whoever owned it.

There was a sinking in my chest-

There went my plan.

April 10

I tried to kill myself

The first Sunday of spring break.

Too much yelling, way too much noise;

It drove me over the edge.

I went upstairs,

Closed the door,

Sobbed.

Poured the entire bottle of antidepressants in my hands;

Dumped them back in.

Repeated until I was sufficiently worked up.

Mom came in and saw me;

She rolled her eyes.

And as she went to get my dad,

I almost swallowed everything I had in my hands.

I wish I had.

I went to the hospital, and it was a waste of my time.

Mom was ready to throw me into inpatient care

So I could get out of her way.

Unfortunately,

They sent me home.

Eventually, mom came with me to my next therapy session.

I really like Leslie. Now that I haven’t gone for a week or two,

I miss her.

I want to talk to someone.

Anyway,

Mom came and I confronted her about getting mad at me.

About telling me I do it for attention

And to get out of work.

She said she does get mad

And she thought I was being manipulative.

Oh.

I’m starting an intensive outpatient therapy program,

Starting April 15.

Three days a week, 1-5:30 p.m.

I’m so ready for it.

I can’t wait.

Is it bad that I’m excited?

April 20

I started Outpatient,

And it’s not too bad.

The therapists there aren’t like Leslie.

They’re not nurturing or even caring, really.

But I’ve made a sort-of friend there.

His name’s Adison.

Seventeen, skater, sort of hot.

He’s the only one that really talks to me

And laughs at my jokes.

I like that.

I cut myself for the first time

On Thursday.

I didn’t really have a reason;

Just sort of angry and fed up and sad.

The boys at therapy aren’t allowed to have razors,

So they take these things off of plastic bottles-

You know, the little ring that’s left once you take the lid off-

And they flip them inside out,

Stick them over the cap,

And it’s good enough for them to do the job.

Adison placed once on my shoulder as a joke I think,

But I took it and kept it.

Maybe he was helping me out.

I don’t have much to show for how long I spent

Mangling my wrists as I went to guitar lessons.

Just a few red lines.

I was kind of pissed because I’d hoped it’d be easier.

I felt like I had to tell someone on Friday

Because I felt guilty for not feeling guilty.

I told Jenny and I showed her,

And she got pretty mad.

I felt a lot worse

Then I did

Before.

I’m cutting my hair today to make myself feel better.

Maybe with a couple extra inches cut off,

I’ll be a new person.

I feel stupid for trying to write like Ellen Hopkins,

But I feel like it’s the only way to express myself.

Paragraphs and full sentences don’t make much sense

When you’re kind of broken yourself.

April 21

My hair is short now

And I actually do feel like a new person.

April 29

Adison got my number.

We hung out on a Friday night.

We kissed.

I had no idea what I was doing,

But I liked it.

We spent the whole day together the following Sunday,

And when we made out in the movie theater,

I was actually kind of good..

May 7

I’ll start with the good.

Adison, Maggie, Caitlin, Mom, Dad, and I

Went out for Mom’s birthday dinner on Friday.

It was fun,

And when it got dark,

Adison and I took a walk back to the woods.

We came back to S&H and we made out at the park.

I had to tell him to stop since we had to go back to the house.

But I really, really didn’t want him to.

However,

I don’t think Adison’s been quite honest with me,

Considering another girl is his iPod background

And he called her his girlfriend.

I’m really not mad anymore.

I’m just kind of bummed because if it’s true,

Then I’ll have to stop seeing him,

And wow,

I’m going to miss kissing him.

May 13

I met Adison’s family

The day before mother’s day.

They were all very nice and funny,

And I liked them a lot.

Adison said he wasn’t cheating on me,

And he explained himself.

Good enough for me.

We made up and made out.

We hit second base that day.

He gave me my first hickey,

And Dad made me feel like a slut.

Everyone did.

He texted me the next day,

Wanting to tell me something and make sure I didn’t get mad.

I swore he was going to tell me I was, in fact, a sideline chick.

Instead he asked if we had started dating too soon.

I said we probably had. Was he uncomfortable, or trying to say something else?

He said he loved what we had, but he felt like we needed to slow down.

I asked what that meant.

It turns out it means “friends.”

Translation:

This. Sucks.

I’ve only known this kid one month.

I don’t get why I’m so wound up about it.

It’s not the end of the world.

I’ll be ok.

Ugh.

It just makes me upset for some reason.

May 17

Getting to know me better

Is taking too long

(In my opinion)

Only good thing to come out of this is that I’ve written a new song.

It’s pretty good.

June 6

Well

Adison’s got a new girl

And I’m left to throw out everything.

I think I’m done with this poem now.

It’s took me six months to complete, and I’m changed.

I’m done with being sad.

I’m done with group.

I’m done with Brandon and Adison,

And I’m done with letting things get to me.

All that’s left to do now

Is move on.