My mother read that parents should spend quality time with their children. One way is to sign up for organized activities together. This month we're taking meditation to free the mind. Last month it was Rolfing. Have you ever Rolfed, Tone?" "Only after the school's shepherd's pie," I said.
Would I cheat to save my soul? No. But to save my G.P.A.? Yes.
Because no one can be trusted.
You won't know until it's over. You won't find me in time.
I may be fat and ugly, but I'm not stupid. If anyone had ever gotten past my looks, they might've noticed I have a brain.
Don't choose me. I'm not worth your time.
Year after year. "Please don't make me go [to school]" "You have to go," Kim would say. "It's a new school, make a new start." "Sticks and stones." from Chip. Words will only kill you.
Everyone's a liar. Everyone I've ever known.
My room is cleared. My head is cleared. Earlier, around dawn, I took out the last load of trash. I look around and see what's left. Nothing. There is no more Daelyn Rice. As I was. As I am. Or will become. I'm a blank slate
His invitation lingers. So does my question. Why me? I don't know the answer. When I look at myself in the mirror, all I see is a starving, stunted bird who never grew wings and lost all reason to sing.
With determination and purpose, I head into the light.
I'm sorry you don't get it, Mom. Sometimes I don't get why I do the things I do. I just know I wake up every morning and wish I was dead.
I wish I could tell my parents, " If you want to help me, help me die.
I want to tell them, "Chip, Kim, there is no way to suicide-proof a person.
I've never been afraid of the dark. I'm more afraid of the day, of people. I love the night. The solitude. Well, I don't love it. I don't feel love. I hate people, so I hope when I get there it isn't crowded. I hope the light is a momentary phenomenon and the other side is completely black. And silent.
The sad truth is, they should never trust me.
Really? It seems too good to be true. I don't trust it. I don't trust anyone.
Secrets. I can't take then with me. If I do, when I go, when I arrive at my final destination, I'll be . . . impure.
No one ever found out what was happening inside me. How the pain was eating me away. No one ever came to my rescue, or stood up for me.
I just want the pain to end.
Why are people so cruel? What did I ever do to them?
Everything seems to be working." Except me. I'm broken.
I didn't tell him. And I never told her the whole truth. What would it matter? There was nothing she could do; nothing anyone can do or will do.
That same piercing screech in her voice every time at the hospital. "Do something!" When I slit my wrists. "Help her!" The last time too. "Somebody help her. Help us!" You're helpless, both of you. All of us.
I shouldn't have been there. I should never have been born.
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