The Journal of an Angsty Teen
July 5th, 2001
All in all it was a good day. Productive.
I woke up around 5 this morning, just early enough to update my anti-Christian website.
Around 8 I started thinking about killing myself so I logged on to AOL Instant Messenger to tell people, but nobody was on so I decided that today would not be a good day to talk about killing myself.
Then I went to some Christian website and left a message in their guestbook saying that God doesn’t exist. I bet they’ll think twice about believing in God next time they pray. I hate Christians, they’re so banal.
Around 9 I thought about eating breakfast so I went into the kitchen and grabbed an apple, I hid it in my sleeve so my mom wouldn’t see. She asked me if I was hungry, I told her that I hate her. She cried, then I went and ate my apple. It was good.
10 minutes later my dad came into my room, I had just enough time to close the curtains and and light my candles before he got the door unlocked with his credit card. He was concerned about me, my mother had told him what I said to her and he wanted to talk and maybe get me to eat. I told him to leave me alone and that I hated him. I think something inside him broke because he started crying. I’ve neer seen my father cry before, it was kind of cool.
I then decided to try AOL Instant Messenger again, this time I found some one I knew from school. I told her I was going to kill myself today. She tried to talk me out of it. She told me that I had lots of good qualities. I asked her what my good qualities are, she couldn’t think of any so she said I was nice. I told her I was going to slit my wrists if she said I was nice ever again. She then told me that God loves me… I told her that I don’t like her God and that I think he’s a figment of her imagination. She stopped messaging… I hope she dies. I messaged her one more time telling her that I was going to do it, she told me not to do it, so I logged off of Instant Messenger and sat back in my chair to reflect.
Around noon my dad knocked on my door, he said it was time for our family therapy session. I told him I wouldn’t go to see that doctor anymore. I would go if he put me on meds though, but he doesn’t so I won’t. Last time I saw the Doctor he asked me how I was feeling and I just said I hated him. He’s a nice guy, a little too nice. I really do hate him. Well anyway, I told my dad I wasn’t going to go and that I hate him more than ever for asking me to. He and mom and my little sister piled into the car and went with out me, undoubtedly to talk about my issues behind my back.
As soon as I heard them pull out I went into the kitchen and made myself a sandwich and a bowl of icecream then I retreated to my room to watch day time television. After a couple talk shows I decided that it would be a good idea to sitdown and sketch out some suicide art. I drew slit wrists, dismembered limbs, nooses and self portraits where I had been disemboweled by huge razor blades. I then proceeded to leave these drawing around the house, three of them in my little sisters doll house.
My picture planting was interrupted by the sound of the family car pulling into the driveway, so I dashed back to my room and through the empty icecream bowl under my bed and turned out the lights. Fortunately my candles were still lit so it was the perfect environment to write gothic poetry. Here’s what I scribbled before my parents got to my room…
SLASH MY WRISTS
You f***ing hypocrites!
I hope you drown in piss
I wanted to make a haiku out of it but I can never remember how many beats are in a haiku anyway.
I left the my little black poetry book on the desk next to my razor blade and hid in the closet. My parents came into my room and my mom picked up the book, I could see her through the slits in the closet door. She sure looked upset, especially when she realized the razor had blood on it. It wasn’t really blood but she didn’t know that, I could barely keep from laughing at her banality. She started to scream for me and she ran out of my room to look for my corpse. That’s funny, my dad ran andcalled 911, they’re actually on our speed dial now. It’s kind of cool, the operators know me by name.
Anyway, so that’s where I am now. Hiding in my closet with an ambulance in my driveway and the police searching for me. Heh, they’ll never think to look in here. Maybe I’ll be on the news? I hope I am, and if they ask me why I did it… I’ll tell them I hate them and that I don’t like their God… that’ll show them. Anyway, I hope tomorrow is as fun as today has been.
Want to read more humor from the eReel? Then click: here.
In the 1st episode of Nurse Betty – she asks the simple question – “SO, you want to hand over
Oh, boy oh boy oh boy. Sometimes there is just way to many good stories to capture the attention. Which