TW: Mention of suicide. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255
Saturday, September 19th 2015:
I’m writing this because my therapist told me that it will help me not want to kill myself. I call bullshit, how is writing in a journal every night supposed to help anyone? But I guess I literally have nothing else to lose and at very worst case, I kill myself Monday at midnight after I watch Chelsea Lately. But, okay alright- where to start. I guess we should get to know each other, my name you didn’t ask because you’re a literal dead tree, is Gray Lyndon Hilltz and no my name isn’t short for anything it really is Gray, like the color of the New England sky. My parents had zero hope of a bright and shining son I suppose. So now, how did we get here. Well, I tried to kill myself a year ago when I was sixteen but show me one teenager at sixteen in their sophomore year of high school that doesn’t want to kill themselves, I just acted on it and I’m the crazy one. My junior year- life is the same. I still live in the same town with the same seven thousand people and I still go to high school with the same 400 wasted youths. I mean think about it, you’re born on this world, against your will and then you are forced to live where ever your parents live and my parents settled on Belmont, New Hampshire. We have two gas stations, one ice cream place and like every white trash town we have like three Subways. Why did I really want to kill myself, because it’s peaceful and life isn’t. My life from the outside is completely normal, I know how cliché but it really is. My mom is a stay at home mom even still as I was peaking seventeen. My dad works for the state and other than hitting on his coworkers I’m not sure what he truly does for them. I have one friend, Ryder Killian Thompson, Ryder really is a good friend he never judges really anyone and he always just shows up when I don’t answer my phone. Which, is fair. Ryder saved my life last year and maybe I wanted him to but I’m not sure. I told him I wanted to die and when I didn’t answer my phone after the fifth call he pulled me out of the bloody bath water. I mean, who knows if that’s exactly what happened because I was riding the light into the afterlife when this was all happening. Ryder is having a fire at his house tomorrow night which for the sake of trying and the suggestion of Dr. Ruth Tynsburg aka my therapist, I am going to attend. I have no clue what else to tell you tonight so I guess, enjoy your night?
Sunday, September 20th 2015:
It’s a weird thing, how the seasons move one into the next. I guess scientifically it makes sense, as the earth rotates or orbits or honestly, who the hell cares. One day you’re sitting with the back of your shirt stuck to you like glue from sweat and the next you’re dressed in a hoodie wearing jeans trying to scoot closer to the fire. Maybe, I just never thought about how they work maybe I just didn’t care but now I do. I think now I do because as I look over the flames her smile is illuminated in the glow, her laugh contagious like the plague. The stars hung high in the New England night sky as the air had the first chill of fall. The leaves were still green, the grass still needed to be mowed and the windshields of our cars didn’t need to be scraped off in the mornings. The season had come in like a Monday to a Tuesday, except in this case it was a Saturday into a Sunday. I hadn’t met her before she was one of Ryder’s friends from the town he lived in before his parents wanted to live a more tranquil life on the lake. Her name is Alia, and all I know about her is, her smile, her laugh, her beautiful brown hair that draped over one shoulder and the four letters that made up her name. The even better thing, the only thing she knows about me is my name, the blue Hollister hoodie, the jeans, my glasses, and my blonde hair. As the fire died down and the cold air was even more noticeable than before the others began to leave saying their meaningless see you laters, until it was just Ryder, Alia, and myself sitting around the logs that still had an amber glow as the fire struggled to stay alive. I think that Ryder got the hint and made an excuse to leave us alone. The awkward silence was immediately interrupted by her. She asked me how I liked living here, what I wanted to do when I got out of here and with a little too much honesty I told her I would never get out, and that I don’t plan to live past seventeen. With no judgment she cast a smile. “So, if you never make it past seventeen there’s no hope in me trying to pursue a date?” My heart sunk, a date. A date with me? I told her, “for you we can just play it by ear, maybe I’ll make it until eighteen.” She laughed and grabbed my phone. She put her number in under the name, “Alia Whitmoore <3” she bent down to place my phone back in my lap and with a kiss on the cheek she said, “Pick me up on Tuesday at 7.”
Monday, September 21st 2015:
Well, it’s 1:15 am and technically Tuesday now, I missed my deadline, I guess if I am going to kill myself it’ll have to wait another week, but we’ll see.
P.S. Thank you, my dead tree of secrets.