It is five thirty-nine. I am sixteen years old. Everything seems unreal. I am still in my house, on my sofa, he is still here, and his arms are around me. His arms on my, on my arms, his fingers trace my broken skin, as lightly as a kiss. My hands shake, my breathing is very quiet. He is telling me that everything will be okay. I can’t believe that. I can’t let myself believe that. It will give me false hope.
But he is here. “David,” I say in my odd half dreaming state, “Why are you here?”
“Because you are here.” Is all he says. I’m slipping back into my state again.
‘Don’t panic Jocelyn, it will be okay. You’re alive, you’re safe. He can’t hurt you.’ I tell myself. I don’t trust myself.
System A
Sophie Mandi Max Gwen Mercy Erin AVA Tracey Bridget My Isaac
It is seven forty. I am five years old. Something awful has happened to Mummy. She is in a hospital, which is a place where really, really ill people go. Daddy wouldn’t tell me what had happened, he just kept looking like he was about to cry and then smiled really widely at me. I don’t understand that, his eyes were all sad but he was smiling.
So Daddy didn’t tell me so I asked Granny, she always just says things and doesn’t think about how old I am. When I told her that Daddy wouldn’t tell me she shook her head and looked sad. Then she told me. Mummy was very sad and that another baby had died inside of her, that the baby had stopped breathing. That Mummy was so sad she tried to go to heaven with the baby. I didn’t really understand why Mummy was so sad but at eight seventeen we were in the hospital, by eight twenty four we were with her. I thought it was very hard to get to see someone in a hospital; there are doors with a squirty soap thing that smells like Auntie Jean.
She was all wired up. I didn’t want to listen to what Daddy was talking to her about “Liver damage” and “Charcoal.” “No alcohol.” I covered up my worries by counting. There were too many numbers in my head to even think about Mummy. She calls me over to her bed. Her voice sounds sore but I don’t say so. She tells me she will be coming home soon but she has to go and stay somewhere for a while first, somewhere where there are people who can make her better. I don’t understand.
Most of me thinks I am wrong, but there is a part of me that thinks maybe Mummy tried to kill herself. But she wouldn’t, would she? She’s so amazing and safe and strong and, well the only Mummy I’ll ever have.
System A
Sophie Mandi Max Gwen Mercy Erin AVA Tracey Bridget My Isaac
The writing keeps getting better and better, so sad though.
Take care xx
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell. I know, right now you can't tell. But stay a while and maybe then you'll see A different side of me Unwell - Matchbox 20
"Why inflict pain on oneself, when so many others are ready to save us the trouble?"
George Pacaud (1879 - 1937)
“The good things don’t always soften the bad, but vice-versa, the bad things don’t necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant.”
“Nobody important? Blimey, that’s amazing. Do you know, in nine hundred years of time and space I’ve never met anyone who wasn’t important before.”
“If it’s time to go, remember what you’re leaving. Remember the best. My friends have always been the best of me.”
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell. I know, right now you can't tell. But stay a while and maybe then you'll see A different side of me Unwell - Matchbox 20
"Why inflict pain on oneself, when so many others are ready to save us the trouble?"
George Pacaud (1879 - 1937)
It is seven fifty-seven. I am nine years old. I started to write a diary today, I started to write it because I read Anne Frank’s diary in school. She was persecuted by Nazis, which is a really bad thing. Nazis are people who want everyone to be perfect and the same, they want people to do what they tell them to and so they kill anyone who was different or who didn’t want to do what they were told. This scared me a bit because everyone has a little bit of them that wants to be perfect, everyone has a little bit that wishes everything went their way all the time. I do that a lot, but mainly to myself. I want to be perfect and everything to just work so I get rid of the bits I don’t like. I think it’s because people hit me, I want to be better for them. Then I’ll stop being punished because I am good.
I wonder if Hitler was bullied when he was at school.
System A
Sophie Mandi Max Gwen Mercy Erin AVA Tracey Bridget My Isaac
It is twelve fourteen. I am thirteen years old. I am playing rounders. I am still no good at it but I go twice a week. Dad is pleased I am trying so hard with it recently. I prefer to field because my vision is going a little blurry and so hitting that tiny white ball is even harder than normal. I mean I can do it, when I need to. It’s the year’s worth of practice but well you know. It’s just harder. I don’t have the energy to swing the huge bat behind me and bring it around to hit the missile out of my way.
The ball, it’s mine. I run backwards keeping my eye on it. It’s in my hands, but something is wrong. My legs disappear from under me and I land on the grass. Everything is fuzzy and I feel sick. Everyone is yelling at me. “Stand up, throw the ball.” “Oh for God’s sake.” When I can’t move and someone realises this they crowd around me. Tens of pairs of eyes look down at me. A hand comes down. I take it. When I reach my feet again the world spins. The ball drops from my loose hand and hits my foot. I don’t care, I am afraid of all of the people looking at me.
“I just need water.” I stutter and I walk back to the changing rooms, I feel the eyes burn into my back across the field but not one person moves to help me. My BMI is {x}, I take in a deep breath. Air will sustain me. Air and water, clean, fresh, safe.
Last edited by squirrelspit : 15-08-2009 at 11:54 PM.
Reason: see previous pm.
System A
Sophie Mandi Max Gwen Mercy Erin AVA Tracey Bridget My Isaac
It is seven thirty. I am sixteen years old. He is gone and my parents are back. We are eating, this is proving difficult for me. It’s lasagne, full of pastry and beef. I swallow carefully, avoiding thinking about what I am eating. If I do I will gag.
“So, Jocelyn.” My father begins, I cringe slightly into my chair, if this is about grades or school then managing even one more mouthful will be hard. “I hear that you have been entered for a mathematics competition.” He continues. I am silent, how on earth could he knows that?
My mother cocks her head to one side, “You never told me this.” She leans back into her chair and I tighten my fists under the table, as if I tell her anything. “No,” I reply, “sorry, I didn’t tell you.” She fluffs visibly and I hold my breath, I watch her eyes look over me and I wait for her objection.
She finds it. “Well, Jocelyn. Where is it and how on earth do you think you are going to get there? Hmm? Did you even consider that? Because I for one am not prepared to drive around the countryside for you, especially at such short notice.”
I hold my breath for three seconds and ready myself to tell her it doesn’t matter and I wasn’t planning on going my father says “I’ll take her, I have that day off.”
My mother says nothing, and carefully, almost defiantly, I take a forkful of food and eat it, keeping eye contact with her the whole time.
System A
Sophie Mandi Max Gwen Mercy Erin AVA Tracey Bridget My Isaac
