"In a sick way I want to thank you so holding my head up late at night, while I was busy raging wars on myself you were trying to stop the fight." --Blue October's Hate me.I love my friends. The thought of being with out them if hard for me to take. Tears well up inside my eyes and my soul and seeing any of them in pain makes me wish that I could take it all away.I love school. I really do too, and I have to be around people. During this last summer, I felt abandoned. One of my best friends was away for the entire summer, and I didn't see the other six a lot. I was so alone. I really wasn't, it's just what my mind was telling me. And I became extremely depressed.My depression eventually led me to bulimia. Now, I'm not diagnosed or anything. But everything I ate I threw up, I've actually been doing this for the past couple of years, the first person I ever told is someone who was my best friend the summer before, but we've grown apart, taking different paths. I miss her so much.I cut my self over the summer. I did a couple times, but since I never saw anyone, it didn't matter. I enjoyed hurting myself, I needed to have the feeling of life rush to my head again. It's a smooth clarity that took away my loneliness for a brief moment in time.And at the beginning of school, I cut myself again. For a few days, no one noticed. But when my sleeve road up my bicep, my best guy friend saw. I was terrified. I didn't want people to know my secret, I didn't want people to know my vice. It could have led to a disaster. He starting calling me "emo", and he didn't know how to help me. I denied it every chance that came my way. I'm not "emo". I'm just a little lost right now, I'll get on track soon. I keep telling myself. I havn't told anyone that I'm suffering, that I'm screaming out. I think I lost my people skills, I just want to go home and be with my neices.
One of my role models, Mr. Eaton, was my teacher last year for several classes. I love that man, I felt like he believed in my when know one else did. There was a shooting at Desert Hills High school last year, and, of course, people always have to blame someone. They blamed him. He had nothing to do with it. Tucker was an idiot. Don't get me wrong, I was friends with him. But it's a mystery why he did it, Mr. Eaton didn't make him shoot himself. Tucker's parents need to realize that, btw.
Anyway, the school-board stuck Mr. Eaton down one of the halls, at the very end, and basically gave him one class to teach. They're treating him like crap, and it makes me, and the rest of the kids that love Eato, very, very
ANGRY. Angry enough to punch through a fifty-foot wall.
