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Don't comment on this. It is... hard enough for me to keep this public. I don't wish to share this with you. Not.... not at all.

I wonder why I fail classes this time of year. Why I perpetually, seasonally let myself down. Why I must punish or mourn in this way... You could say "it's only one class. If you need it. It's okay" but it shouldn't be that way. I should be able to get through this season. I should not have these troubles. When is it going to be enough? Last year I went to a therapist and it honestly didn't help. It may have lessened it a little but, it was not enough. You may say "it takes a little longer. You should go back" but I won't. I won't. I'll admit it. I know my friends want me to. They haven't talked to me lately. They don't know about the season. They don't know about the hole that is growing.

Think about it. Why do I want to skip out on Thanksgiving?

Do you ever remember me saying such vile and despicable things before? Didn't I rejoice about this time of year? I keep thinking about candy canes and losing weight and making fires and ... crying. I think about sitting in the dark and hiding away in Jayme's room.

Maybe it isn't just my grandfather's death. Perhaps it's the fact that I ... I .

I wish that it had been me that died.

I know that's selfish and even writing it, I feel the slap of a thousand friends across my cheek. And the burn turns my gaze downwards in shame. As if I'm not ashamed enough. You've lost someone, you know how it feels... no? Did you want to die before this person passed? Did the passing make you rethink things? It's... it honestly made things worse for me.

I was recovering before he died. Or at least that's how I remember it. I remember hating Jackie with such a passion that it overshadowed everything else. My sorrow from that I was just getting over. I remember being able to say that I forgave her. Heh. That isn't true anymore.

Acting class I made my speech about how.... she was the person I wanted to tell most. And y'know sometimes I think about her still. In the night I wonder if we could ever be friends again. If she.... if she is just waiting for me to beg or apologize. Then I think, you're so stupid. She got away for a reason.... you're a suicidal person. When your chips are down, you think of death. That's how you always are and there is no changing you. She tried. She was tired of the drama.

I got to thinking about other things I would change last night. Was a long daydream. I figured out the exact time I would change. I would go back and yell at the girls in my class who humiliated me after the Mrs. Whootan incident. I would tell them how they hurt me. How they ignored my feelings in the situation. How I was brought back to that trauma by her story and how they were SO IGNORANT T___T

Oh god.

I didn't think it would hurt to write.... but it does.

Oh god.

I REMEMBER the shaking! I REMEMBER the humiliation that burned in my breast. I REMEMBER. I BURN. I would stick up for myself back then. Oh god.

Being called into that office and told to APOLOGIZE... how ..... HOW RIDICULOUS.... HOW HUMILIATING

I burn that moment in my mind. I burn it and hold it to my breast. I brand myself the hateful.

SO FULL OF HATE

Maybe if I had stood up for myself, people would not have resented and feared me like they did. The rumors would have been so much easier to bear. Perhaps then teachers would not hate me. Maybe then my fellow students would not stare or ignore. Alone.

Loneliness.

I feel so lonely in this moment.

I see a dark room around me. A long shadow behind me, yet there are no lights. I am in the dark. My loneliness. This pain seeks to swallow me. I don't know what to do with it.

I write.

I live.

And I wish for love.

For love is better than hate. And anything to keep my mind away would be nice.

Sometimes I think, the reason love flees so fast is because people can tell how much hatred I have inside of me. They can feel the darkness, the same darkness that surrounds me now. And I wonder if love is only a distraction to me. Is it my get out of jail card?

[/ wipes away tears] Other times I wonder how long it will take to turn into an alcoholic. When will I allow it to take over me. When is enough sorrow enough to push me over the edge?

I am so vulnerable.