Entries from March 2003 ↓

its all in your head
you think your happy
you think your fine
its all in your head
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I am a stand still with writer’s block and I would like your help. I’m going to start off a poem with a few lines and I’d like anyone and everyone to add some lines to it and we’ll see how it develops.

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“I’m ashamed to say that I come from my family. I confronted my parents and they denied the whole ordeal. When I showed them Janie’s journal as proof, they went silent. I’m going to do what Janie couldn’t do. I’ll bring my parents to justice. My name doesn’t mean shit to me. I’ll publish her journal entries one by one in the paper. I hope they crucify Rick and my family. They deserve it, for Janie’s sake.”

– Carrie McRoberts

“I wish she would have talked to me. Maybe we could have worked this out together. I confronted Rick with the pages and he broke down in tears saying that he didn’t mean to hurt the baby, and how he never meant to hurt Janie. That’s bullshit. He knew exactly what he was doing. He just got caught and now he’s afraid that I’ll tell the world. And I will. He should have died, not Janie.”

– Samantha Conway

“What’s an image? It is something we portray to the world instead of our true selves. I am not a victim of circumstance. I chose this path and now I have to live with my decision. I chose the image. I just hope that when I die, my true self, not my image will live on with people. Most of Ridgemont will remember me as the ‘perfect girl.’ Only Sam and Carrie, I fear, will remember me. What a shame that when I die only two people will have known the real me.

–March 10, 2003

I wish I could talk to Sam. To tell her what’s bothering me. I can’t talk to Lisa about these things. She wouldn’t understand. Rick’s very mean. He hurts me a lot more now and I don’t know how to make him stop. I’d talk to Carrie, but I don’t want to burden her with my problems. She has enough to deal with. Sometimes, I wonder if she knows that I love her.

–March 17, 2003

I’m pregnant. I told Rick and went ballistic. He didn’t want a baby and when I told him that an abortion was out of the question he beat me pretty badly. He kept punching me in the stomach. I doubt the baby has survived.

–March 24, 2003

I’ve started seeing an out of state doctor under a fake name. The baby’s doing okay. If it’s a girl, I’ll name it Samantha Carrie McRoberts, after my two friends. If it’s a boy, I’ll name him Darren Nathaniel McRoberts, I like that name. I’m a month long and the doctor says everything’s okay. I’m not going to tell Rick. I’ll just let him find out when I start showing. I don’t want to keep it from him, but I don’t want him to hurt the baby.

–April 23, 2003

I just got home from the hospital. I broke down and told Rick about the baby. He beat me bad and I miscarried the baby. He doesn’t regret what he did at all. Knowing that my big mouth killed my baby is tearing me apart inside. Mom and dad found out and they decided not to tell Carrie. They think that Rick did the right thing and they won’t even let me have a funeral for the baby. They think I have disgraced the family. How could I come from such a cruel family? I hope Carrie never turns out like them.

–April 30, 2003”

– Janie’s journal entries

“Her ‘friends’ huddled near mom and dad lending them comfort. I stood by Sam. She was Janie’s true friend and everyone knew it. She and I said our goodbyes and then headed to her house to look at Janie’s journal. We wanted to know why and we were determined to find out.”

– Carrie McRoberts

This is written by one of my dearest friends, a very sweet girl named Carey. Show her some love.

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Nobody spoke to the little figure, lying in his own private room, at the end of the ward.
He was a cute kid – or had been, in some other lifetime. A solemn, serious looking child with beautiful, big, dark eyes; ringed around with blood and bruises.
Actually, once you looked, it was hard to find places that weren’t scarred or bruised – some of the scars were old and some new. It didn’t seem to matter how old they were – he still flinched when you touched them.
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Sitting on his porch on a snowy night in January, Chris wondered why his friends were gradually moving away from him, how they were all but a memory now. Maybe it was his failing grades, his increased drug usage or maybe it was the fact that he had started cutting 2 months ago and some people in the school found out. Continue reading →

The obsession
Don’t get caught in temptation, you will only yearn for it more.
To feel the warm blood run down your arm, and slowly to the floor.
To feel pain gently sooths you, and you cut deeper into your cold arm.
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PLEASE give me your comments….

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Lost in a world where theres no where to turn
your body twists and dies alone.
Lost in your mind where the thoughts are unclear
your spirit cried in agony and fear.
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“I barely remember the funeral. I was still in shock. It seemed like all of Ridgemont High was there. She was popular, but I never realized how many lives she touched until then. Her closest friends, myself included, comforted her family. Her sister stood near this goth girl. They didn’t look sad at all.”

– Lisa Norris

“We didn’t want to believe that Janie had killed herself. We wanted someone to blame for our loss. The police were very understanding and yet very firm that all foul play had been ruled out. All evidence pointed to suicide. But every time someone said that, all we thought of was ‘why?’ Why would our little girl want to die?”

– Belle McRoberts

It seems there is only loneliness to be found in this dark hour, of all the things that we regret in life, all those things that have gone past and cannot be undone. Dark Knight, you have walked this path unknowingly, although you may have felt you were serving a greater cause in the begining of life.

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the cuts have all gone the scars have all faded
but she’s still left with feelings jaded
her life, it seems, is not hers to control
she tries to fight but then she is thrown
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I see the faces of all them spacers
But its hard to look one in the eye
Cause you know that one would now die
I see death - i love it in a way
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People say to try
But i cant
All i think about is how im gonna die
As 10 new thaughts come to my head
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Clowns all around you;
They’re dancing with knives.
Taunting you, stabbing you
Happy white faces
Blood red smiles
Laughing at your death.

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Fucking fake friends.
You talk to me when YOU have time.
And then bail when I need you.

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Pretty promise ring,
I’ll marry you.
Just let me cry
And don’t ask what’s wrong.

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“Don’t hit your brother.
Don’t put that in your mouth.
Don’t stick your finger in the socket.”

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Pull me up.
Get me back on the boat.
I’m struggling to keep my head
Above the water,
And I don’t know how to swim.

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If I say goodbye,
I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.
And I don’t want to.
I love you, but do I want to be with you?
I don’t know.

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Most people travel to high-society countries. Italy, Germany, Spain, England. I prefer the less developed countries, mostly because those are the ones where I can roam about freely. Not as some slave. Those economic countries have scanners that can detect me. It’s not hard now adays. Technology can do almost anything. The last frontiers are gone. The ocean. The universe. The human mind. Every mystery has been solved.

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Im bleeding.
full of excitment and fear too.
the cuts on my wrists,
the pain and suffering,
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I take the knife to my wrist
Slit the veins that kept my alive to make me live through this
Blood slides down ending this putiful life i’ve had
Tears of joy roll and fall
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Will you cut me up so that I can feel you fucking up my life again? Will you wake me up so that we can kill ourselves together again? Will you hate me somemore like you use to? Will you tell me your secrets like you used to? Will you make me bleed your in me, I can feel you. Will you make me think your in me, like you used to? I claw my skin to scars, I cut myself too hard, I feel into apart, I fought against my heart. I crawled back into your skin, I let you in, I let you win, I told you off again, like I use to…

Fuck you,
I hate you, I loved you,
You treat me like dirt,
I’m such a bitch.
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Beat me, Make me feel like I’m good for something.
Hate me, Make me feel like myself, I am nothing.
Hurt me, Make me crawl back to you bleeding.
Haunt me, Make me run away screaming.

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looking over the edge
the river is high
im about to fall off the ledge
im sick of all the lies

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I could see the sadness in her eyes
Yet she never shed a tear
She accepted what was wrong
There was nothing she could do
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