Recovering Suicidal Teenage Journal


"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."

-Plato

Prologue


Well, this is not really a journal. Just one of those cheap writing books, which the hospital gave to me.

As you can tell, I am recovering from my attempted suicide. It wouldn't be the first time either. But this is something to do while in this place. I know I will be back here.

Just because. I am not pretty, I am not smart, and I sure hell don't know why I'm still here.

Sometimes my parents are right about me. And that annoys me.

I have a rather love-hate relationship with my parents, more like leaning towards the hate part. My parents are keeping me in a psychiatric ward, on suicide watch again, and won't let me out till I am healed.

But don't they know?

I am not pretty.

I am dumb.

And I have no purpose being here. Really I don't.

I have to write in this notebook about my "feelings." According to my doctor.

Well let me tell you, my name is Anna, and I feel annoyed.

I guess you can call me Anna the annoyed teenager. Especially since I am sure my psychiatric (or doctor) is going to read this someday.

But don't bother trying to listen to my tale. Because doc, you really don't know how I feel. And why should I let you know how I feel?

I guess here's the tale of the recovering suicidal teenager. But I might be lucky the next time!