I can’t handle this confusion, I’m unable come and take me away.

May 13th 2006

They say that starting a journal is the hardest thing, but I know that there are many things in life that are much harder. For instance, try falling asleep with both an NG tube and oxygen in your nose at once, now that’s nearly impossible. You could also try getting better from an eating disorder, it’s harder then climbing Mount Everest.

I’ve been seeing a therapist since I was eight and struggling with mental health issues for most of my fifteen years of life.

I’ve been writing since I was around eight. Writing comes as naturally to me as breathing, it’s just something I do. I’ve written one book, which is in the publication process, and I’m working on another book, which is, as of this afternoon, one hundred and thirty six pages.

All my writing has an underlying theme of pain, suffering, and struggle. That’s because I’m eye to eye with the stuff all day. That’s just my life. Welcome to it.

May 14th 2006

I spend so much time a day writing. I write in my journal on and off all day, then I get home and work on my latest book.

If I change my mind and decide that I do want to grow up, I could be an author. I already really am. Six big name publishers are currently reading one of my books. It wouldn’t be wrong to call me a professional writer. I’m a professional writer at fifteen; almost sixteen. I cringe as I remember my approaching birthday.

I don’t ever plan on turning sixteen. Most people I’ve talked to don’t believe that I will actually go through with things and kill myself before my birthday, but I will. I have to. I can’t turn sixteen. I just can’t, I really would rather die.

I’ve been a mess these past couple days, crying so easily, being so emotional. Deciding to kill yourself is not an easy thing to do. The worst part is thinking about what it will do to my parents. I know they’ll be crushed. That’s the part that makes me pause and wonder if I should rethink my plans, but I can’t.

May 15th 2006

The pill in my pocket weighs heavily against me. I know I shouldn’t have it, but I can’t bring myself to turn it in to my mother, I need it, and it’s for more then just the reasons the voices no one else hears are telling me. I do need it because they tell me I do, but I also need it because fifteen is old enough, and I honestly just can’t handle turning sixteen.

Theresa, my therapist, made things worse yesterday by insisting that by the way the rest of the world counts I’m already sixteen.

I feel sick physically and emotionally. I’m hearing screams, but I think they’re just hallucinations. I’m scared about what’s going to happen to me and whether or not this plans going to explode in my face. I don’t know what Theresa really thinks of me anymore. I’m scared that she’s mad at me and doesn’t like me anymore. I wanted to call her from school, but then I changed my mind. I probably won’t see her again anyway.

I remember how angry she made me, and how in the middle of our session I got the urge to just get up and leave.

My dance teacher talked to me yesterday and I remember she said that she thought I was doing well. My mom and I exchanged a look, because we both knew that was not the case. I’m not doing well at all. I’m about to commit suicide, and that’s not an exaggeration.

So many people say they care about me, but in the end I’m going to slip straight through their fingers as I fall. It’s really sad if you think about it.

I can’t think about this anymore, I have to change the subject. A girl is walking down the hall here at the doctor’s office, she’s complaining about how much she has to eat. She doesn’t look like she has an eating disorder, she’s not even that skinny. I’m skinnier then her. I happily remind myself that I weigh forty nine kilograms now, only forty nine kilograms.

When is Dr. Koller going to come in to my exam room? I’m getting tired of waiting and I’m having a really hard time with the voices I hear screaming in the background. I want it all to stop. At least Clay and Navern have finally shut up. I can’t wait until I can take my 5:00 PM meds. They should help a lot. Missing the Abilify I usually take at lunch time is really taking its toll on me.

I wonder if my math teacher will report to my therapist at school that I had such a hard time in the two class periods that I was with him?

I keep listening for footsteps coming down the hall, and I keep hoping that it’s Dr. Kollers, but each time it’s not. It’s already 3:17 PM and I’ve been here almost an hour.