Before I remembered anything

Diary entry from a few years ago when I reminisced my teenage years…


A dim ray of light shines from under the closed door. As I lay on the cold linoleum I can hear soft giggles from far away; I guess the other girls from the dorm are watching Friends in the common area. I look around in the room trying to gather strength to do what I had been wanting to do for as long as I could remember, well at least for the last couple of years of my 15-year-old life. Something is holding me back though; I have no idea what it is, but I need some time to think before I do anything. The blood from the earlier cuts is already drying on my skin as I clutch a piece of broken mirror – I always have a stash of pieces ready for the times when I feel the ache in my heart get too strong.

Today is the day I am going to kill myself. I have decided it’s a good day to die; I’d had an argument with another girl a few hours back, hated the psychologist I had been forced to see (I thought he was a fat pig), and on top of that I had been gorging on chocolate and my muffin tops irritated me to the extent that I just wanted to slice my fat off and die.

I hold the blade against my wrist and close my eyes. My life sweeps past me. I think about my mother, she’s really sweet and I know she cares about me, but I have really deep feelings of anger towards her, and I just can’t let that go. My brother, well, can’t really take him into consideration. He’s a bit of a loser, a nobody, he never does anything but drink and hang out, and I think he’s gonna be like that for the rest of his life.

Tears swell up in my eyes when I think about the most important thing in my world – my pony Alfi. He was slaughtered not too long ago, and I feel dull ache in my heart when I even think about him. He was the cutest, smartest and sweetest little thing you could think of. I’d gotten him when I’d been 11, and me and him were inseparable. Time and time again I’d run to the stables when the world was too much to take, and he’d rest his head on my shoulder, and I’d calm down listening to him crunch on hay or just breathe his deep horse-breaths. The smell of his hair fills my nostrils, and I suddenly feel calmness fill my existence. I’m not afraid anymore. Alfi is gone, maybe I’ll see him in heaven. I open my eyes, push the blade and start moving the piece of broken mirror, seeing my own tear-streaked face in between breakage lines on the shiny surface.

Suddenly the door opens and the sudden amount of light makes my eyes hurt. I see a black figure in the doorway and before I know it, someone’s snapped the blade off my grip, and is pulling me to stand up. I see Heather, a girl from next door, looking at me with sorrow in her eyes. She pulls me close and hugs me, and I start crying even harder. I clung onto her all the way up to the door, hear her close it and turn on the light, and I’m still holding her as she sits down on my bed. No words are exchanged; there’s a mutual understanding that she’s just saved me, and as she tears pieces of toilet paper and wipes down my arm I stare into the distance out of the window. The night-time stars are shining in the clear winter night, the snow glistens and I feel no pain. I’m alive.


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