12/1/051
'Today I am going to write about a journey. A journey of a small girl-long ago-not me. A girl who set off to find love, and her soul, but most of all just find herself. It was a struggle more immense, more morose than many. Experiences no young girl should have to go through- she did. One day she sat down, and began to write, each finished page revealing a part of herself to the world, and in her writing she found strength, love, comfort, and eventually even confinement. She learned how to hide herself behind the words. She learned how to inspire, she learned how to learn. Years passed, struggles passed, and she kept on writing. Journals, Poems, Stories. ‘Pieces of her heart?’ but it was much later in her life, when she sat down one day to write about her journey, that she found out she had indeed found love, her soul, and herself. And thank god, because if she had never pulled out that spiral notebook, that first day, that little girl would have never become who I am, and I would still be struggling in a world, not at all my own. 2
[Later that night]3
‘Where has her father gone? Who will teach her right from wrong? Who will hold her tight, when she has no will to fight? What she needs is this-sadly, She needs no father, She needs a daddy. ‘Bryan isn’t here today, and I’m having withdraws. I miss him. Its 1:10 pm. I am so sick of so many guys. [Not all.] But most. ‘ What video is it? A porno?’ Well.<-- Some kid just asked that. Whatever. We are all like some huge, dysfunctional family. And, we are about to watch Lion king. So…. It goes. 4
[Katie]5
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
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haha i love the last paragraph.
your work is so personal.. it's way down to earth but somehow very immense in meaning and worth.
i dig ittt
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10/30/05
What are you... A journal? Does it hurt? Just knowing I'm using you? For What? Ventilation of frustration, anger, lies, hate. I'm sick. Sick of watching everyone pass my by, when I never can advance. Sick of always placing second. Sick of bleeding things out, crying them out, screaming them out. Sick of being a bad person. Sick of being tired. Tired of ache, false hope, or plainly, tired of being tired. Hurt, and mistaken. Unable to grasp reality. Hurting me becomes inevitable, and I grow confided by thick chains. Chains melded of all I never can be. Binding me here, as a constant reminder. of what? Failure. Pages screaming, yelling, pleading to be filled. But I am sorry, I only have so much to write. I only have so much blood to bleed. I only have one heart to break. But god bless me, it hasn't ever done me any good, so take it, trash it burn it, because it long ago stopped beating. I can't stand it. What happens if I hate myself? I get accused of self-sympathy? God No. Sympathy is the last thing I need. Or is it? Why else would my fingers, be silently shuffling away, nagging at me, chewing contently at the keys, for precise wording. Why else? Why is it I can't stand seeing her happy? Am I truly, in the depths of the heart I don't have, set on ruining her life? I shouldn't have to Wonder who I am anymore. Satan just gave me a call, and I can't ignore family now can I? Let me do one nice thing, for once. Let me end this. Why is it marines, and firefighters and heroes are praised for being brave, or giving their life up for someone else? What about me, knowing my death could set so many souls free, is criticized for wanting to die? I'm sick. I'm tired I'm gone... God, what are you thinking. ME? Kill myself? Like I'd ever have the guts. And "Thank God" too, right? I play it well, I know. Being happy? Takes a lot of practice, yes, this game it does. But, you want to know a secret? You never trust me with them, but I'll be kind. You're playing too, you've been playing. Oh ya, one last thing, You just sent me to game Over.
[Katie]
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11/7/05
I'm here. In geometry. Didn't do my homework. Lost the homework I *did* do. Didn't study for my test, and doubt I'd understand it anyways. Found out today Adam likes Chelsea too. So sick of.. life? Highly Likely. Nothing Left to do, but waste my life away being depressed. Fuck. I've come to discover a new habit of mine.
Questioning myself... and others. Have you noticed? Why do I write *you*? Am I planning on someone else reading this? Does that change what I am writing? Shit. Oh well though. What is depression? I think its only fair to have an answer, so I can more fully understand what I am going through. Normal teenage rebellion right? Why *do* parents think we all rebel? Because its just the time we are all supposed to?
Because parents want us to be what they want. Want us to live what they haven't. I'll write back soon, its time for me to take my " We know your to lame to understand this," test. Ya, of course. OK. Well.. I've got a few more minutes of stalling. At least *you'll* still love me if I fail..Shit. How pathetic. All I have left is some journal-thing? What The fuck... What is a journal? Something we use to write out our feelings? So.. I guess that means your not a journal, being as I have no feelings. Anyways. The test is Over. Not that I care. Quote from Chels this morning, " I hope you know you're wasting your life away being depressed."
Fuck. Like she has room to talk. Sure its easy to be Happy when you have her kind of life. But try mine, she doesn't know what its like, to watch her smile, when all I ever seem to do is cry. My weakness. What do I need? You can never hurt enough I've realized. Depression. Its like a drug. An addicting one, where you can never seem to get enough. Drama. So sick of it. So used to it. So dependent. On.. it. To what? Wake me up from all to unrealistic dreams. Wake Up Katie. Wake up, we need you. Please be real.
Fuck. What about what I want? Does that even matter anymore? No. Don't Bother. OK. I know... HA. Red and Black ink. The two colors of my life. Dark and bloody...
How many pages does it take to stop the pain?.. What if my life.. Had a flavor? Lets see.. First you would have to get to the center. The center of my sucker life. How many licks, does it take? Thirteen. One for each year I've been forced to live. Sucking contently , you get greedy, and quickly try to chew your way to the middle. The flavor? Oh right... Hells... Sugar. Enjoy. Are you happy? Knowing that I'm crazy?
No. Don't say that.. OK. I'm fine. See?* Read It. I'm fine. SHUT UP! I swear. Why don't you Be*LIE*ve me? OK Go ahead, but just remember. Only 13 licks to the center. Thirteen Fucking licks.
[Katie]
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11/7/05
[Later that Day]
Insanity is a beautiful thing. Like, some sort of hidden treasure, Or melodic nails that sing out, against the chalkboard of life. Humming my lullabies, so I will finally sleep. Nails bitten to the quick in an almost animalistic hunger. No, I'm not a toy. So stop playing with me. Beautiful. I see it. For once, I see something beautiful, in your eyes... and then, you fall asleep, close them, and leave me, lost, and awake.
But its okay. I'm good at finding the heartless in the world. So just stop worrying. Oh? you weren't? OK.. I'll wait. Till the.. 11th. It will be good then. Running out of blood. I mean ink. Your new assignment? Give Up.
Using Crappy-ass Pen, because... I can. Maybe I am angry. And guess what? I lied. I let some one read it. Sympathy? Perhaps.. No- I'm Not like that.. am I? No, I'm not. Why do I keep on assuring myself that? I'm so pathetic. This marker is bleeding through. A lot like my life. This page is. At least the back of it anyhow. It appears blank. Emotionless, except for the slight traces of color, bleeding through. That's the only way anyone can see.. If it bleeds through.. I'm riding the bus OK. So hopeless. Had a miracle today... Had a seat saved for me. I like this pen.. Maybe.. a little? Just Enough
This entry sucks. But honestly, as I have said, Whose there to impress? Don't answer that. Writing, while driving makes me sick, but being sick, is something I should be very used to.. Now isn't it? Maybe.. YES What voices am I answering? My own? I heard my name again.. Quotes from Oscar, " Your.. not really like that.. are you?".. No reply. Whose Oscar? The miracle worker, who saved me a seat. Yea, I know, I said something nice about someone, wow. Who cares though right? Who cares.
[Katie]
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11/8/05
Its Tuesday morning. No mom, means, we'll have to walk to the bus stop. Its life, and So.It.Goes. Six O' Clock. Leaving in thirty. Another day at school. I am changing. For The best? What is the best? Exactly. How am I changing? I’m not even sure- But I do feel it. Can you tell yet? Maybe it's just me. Never mind. Don't Bother. It's. Always. ME. My gut? I had a nightmare last night. Maybe. I. Wasn't. Asleep....
[Later That morning, Same entry]
I was talking to Cous this period. He was telling me how, I ruined, this one guys life. I do that... haw? Ruin lives? I want to make things better, but can I? Maybe. How many chapters? Evil, Within Us. Keep Us In check. Write A book. Its not random! Fuck, a symbol? Of? Statan. Spelt Wrong. Read Chapter nine. Saw. We'll see now won't we?
You knew didn't you? Who I really was... from the start? Obvious? How disappointing. I’m not listening. OK? No. Not to you... how did I answer? Just accept it. Offer to me. Red. Needle. Point. Pen. The sharp edges... taunting me, jabbing me. Write. Wake Up. Write. Wake Up. LET me sleep! 9:34 am. Hands stained with mistakes. Not mine though. Because I am perfect. A perfect what? Just Tell me! Imperfection. I'm a perfect imperfection... Nice to know I'm good at being something. OXYMORON'S. Carefully write this line. I've blocked out everything else around me. I can hear this pen scratching against the paper now. Greedily. Hungry? Starving. Feed it. Feed It. Feed it. With? Words. Love. Hope… Lost. Impossible. No, really. Change color? YES, I will.
Blue.. And red? Blue… eyes? YES. Irresistible. Inescapable Cynicism. Knowledge. The truth *can* hurt? No. It DOES. I'm waiting for the rain, waiting for the calm , yet violent drops outside, to mingle with my tears. 9:40 am now. Six minutes... Not even half a page written. Pages look almost 3D. My pen had '!!!!!!! Hey Cookie Monster!' Written on it. Walls are shaking. Simon's Death- so soon. Lord OF the Flies. Golding. A fantastic writer. Maybe one day...? I could...No...yes? If I say yes I jinx it. If I say no, it's Hasta la vista to Positive Thinking. Fuck...<-- How many of those dots do I have to put? Oh well... Yes. They do their rain dance. Savages. Some one volunteered for me to read. God. Let me fade out. Some One else read... Keep reading. Everyone ignore me. Please. I'm not here. Eyes Closed. Fading. Fading. Fading. Almost gone...Brought it back... Please Save me.. Wake Up Katie. Wake up. The cookie monster Is coming for you, and he's hungry. ' Kill the Beast, Cut its throat, spill its blood.'
Simon's Dead. And So it Goes. Chaos. The didn't know they were doing it! Its not their fault! I swear! Its not MY fault! I had to read. It's over. Simon's dead, and so am I. Traumatization. Friends don't trust me, good thing to haw? Trust me with a secret? Dumb Idea... What’s a friend? Have I not written enough today? I see her. And I'm here. New twitch.
OK. Now others know. Just not me. Surprised? I am not. OK this page looks like a flag. Yes? No? Doing bio. Boring Bio. Sleeping. Slowly. Drifting. Let me go. Woken up. Again. 'What’s that?'[points to you]...'Oh it's... my journal...kinda'-Me. Funny how normal colored books, that have something important to Say, can be less appealing than colored pages of crap. HAHAHA. Hilarious. No, laughter, is also, for dumb asses. Its not funny. Who am I? Why do I care so much? Why do you? Shut up... you care.. I know it. Red. Blue. Red. Blue. ' I'm sorry Katie, I'm not going to tell you.' -Lauren. 11:37 am. Wait. Wait. I'm tired of waiting . Sick of it. Slam the door... Dead.Dead.Dead. No more beating heart. No more time for breathing. Sickle Cell Anemia. OK. i think I am writing too much. ' Whoa you write A lot!'- John. 'She’s working on a note...'- Lauren
Lies of Course. Because that's all we are. That's our air. Our oxygen. Our love. Our life-Lies. Wow. Almost done. Favorite page...Writing.. Pointless... Never Going to do any good with this... Ever. Even me. Why am I saying EVEN me? Of course. Who else? I'm the queen of death, and hell.. No. It's not their by mistake. Or is it? No hell is my home.
'IS that all from today?'-Lauren.
'Yes, yes it is.'- Me.
Forgive And Forget.
[Katie]
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11/8/05
[Later that Afternoon]
I figured out what’s changing. Everything. The way people see me-what used to be a hint of sense of humor, is now annoying. Hints of blunt honestly, and considered, uncompassionate, and inconsiderate... I'm supposed to set you off the table... So hang on...[ Even though you can't experience the passing of time.]... OK I'm back. As Anthony, the kid who sits in front of me in Health right now, was handing my test, I said, 'Thank You.' Then He looked at me and replied, ' Your Welcome... Martha?' That's about the 13th time he has called me something else. He knows my name by now... I hope. But see...? I'm not her...doesn't even know my name... These entries hurt my heart-because they suck so bad.
Wow. My writing, went from small to big. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock... What am I talking about? There's only digital clocks at our school. Ow... weird position. This isn't ever going to inspire anyone...But its not my fault, and HEY, its not like I can do anything abut it... Now can I? ..What the Hell am I talking about?? Weird. 1:22pm. Schools finally almost out-today. Almost to dads. I miss him so much. YES... I care about people! I care about a lot of People... I'd take a bullet, for any of these: Alycia, Amber, Janie, Dani, Lauren, Clarice, Chelsea, Nancy, Taryn, Carissa, Racheal, Sarah, Marissa, and Amanda [That's all for the girls, and family]The Guys: Alex, Cj, Oscar, Jason, Arik, Ryan, Chris, Jo, Bill, Quintin. And Probably others.
Maybe its because I don't care much for this life, nevertheless... Who cares? This sucks. 1:42pm. One more hour in hell. Then I'm free. Open the cage. I'm a bird.Flying.Flying.Flying. Not Even time to fall this time. *SPLAT.
[Katie]
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11/8/05
2:15... Wasting my life away...here. Writing. Doing nothing. Build up of lactic acid in my hand, leading to a cramp. What to write about…The miracle worker is sitting in front of me. But to clear things up. I don’t like him. It’s my birthday in six days. Another day to remind me how alone I am. Moms going to miss my birthday, Good. Because who wants to celebrate the day I also died, anyway. Dead. Never had a chance to live.- So why are we still celebrating? Waffles.
God…7...Fuck. Oh well. What?
[Katie]
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11/9/05
Good morning, and boy it sure isn't. 11:26 am. Geometry. The more I write in here the more it becomes a journal. And that sucks. I think. Well- here. Once I finish this page, I'm going to try and make it less journal-ish. So... maybe I will be able to share this. Wave .Drip, Drop. Tick. Tock. Sounds. Songs. Write.Write.Write. Rip. Wake Up. This write isn't worth it. Print. Wake up. No. Too tired. Fill the Page. Feed it. Feed me. I'm Sorry. Question? Who are you? Me? NO. ONLY me.
I have to fill this page so I can write something worthy. Sleeping. Slipping. Going. Going. Gone. Dying. Dying. Dead. I have acting next period. No one talks to me-not here- So I won’t have any quotes to tell you. So. Much. To. write… Ok… Wow… How lame.-this page looks so crappy, I can’t get over it. Trying. To. Wait. For a new page. Its 12:13, almost been a whole hour that I’ve been using you to zone out. Haw? Well since this is kind of a “journal” page, I my as well-say it. Janie Likes Cj. My Ex. Who hates me…That’s half of what I want to write about. But only half.
“Here you go Katie. Holy Crap! That’s a lot of writing. I could never do that.”-Brittany
I always try to end my entries kind of cool. But HEY, fudge. I had a day dream this morning that I fell into my yogurt cup[ That I was eating at the time] I started drowning, but then was saved . When I woke up, and looked at my yogurt, I couldn’t help throwing it in the trash.
We all come to a point in our lives where we realize how fast we are growing up. Somehow we suddenly find ourselves having to make decisions, life changing ones. We learn that there are only limited roads to take, and here I am. At that fork. One road that could ultimately lead to my destruction, death, and depression. Another road that could lead to my rightful glory and happiness. I’m sorry. I lied. I’m not at that fork-I chose my road so long ago, and we all know where I am. But you’re here, yes you’re here too. Didn’t you notice? It’s only fair to give you a warm welcome. Welcome home.
Welcome to Hell, sweet hell.
[Katie]
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11/10/05
My sorry wasn’t good enough for him. He even told me so.
“Why can’t we still be friends?”
“Because I still love you. Because seeing you hurts me. Seeing you just as happy now, as when we were together. And I’m sorry, we can’t be friends. I’m just not ready for more torture. What does your ‘I’m sorry,’ do for a broken heart?”
[Katie]
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11/11/05
Its been a day since I last wrote, and I’ve been trying to fix my life. Pick up my trash. It has come to my realization, however, that this will be a long, time staking challenge. What don’t I have? Why is it all I want…? Its my birthday weekend, and depressing as it may be, I ask two of my friends-if they are busy. Both are. I resort to the boy- and find out they all have plans [with each other.] That’s depressing. Ditched for him-again. Slowly ruining my life? Complex. He tells me ' I don't need you. I don't need anyone, but my guitar. The only one who won't betray me. Lie to me. Hate me. Hurt me...' And I'm sorry, that I can't be there for him like his instrument. Always waiting to be played-used. I'm sorry, I am so sick, of being someone’s 'guitar'. You love the music your 'guitar' makes , but over time, it becomes, the music, YOU make. Sick of being played. SO I guess, its true, I am no instrument. But if I was? Would I be your guitar?
Life is like a card game. You don’t get to choose what card you are. What suit. Born-as it is. Low cards, a waste of everyone’s time? Put right below worthy? Almost taunting? Strong cards? People are jealous. God. Then you realize, you aren’t a card, your holding the hand. You are playing this game? No. Not just playing. Winning.
[Katie]
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[11/15/05]
9:12 am. Not a 'birthday girl' any more. Not a thirteen year old freshman anymore. Not even myself-anymore. All because of one lousy-day. What’s the difference between 13 and 14? One year. A year of Hell. Drama. What I wish I could call friends. Break Ups. Heartbreak. Betrayal, Loneliness, and temptation. I may be 14, but my 13 year old scars still mock me. Replacement. It sucks. It doesn't matter which one of you knows them better, loves them more.. or anything else. I saw her walk away-just as happy. But she didn't love them. Never will. I told her. ' Never leave the one you like, for the one you Love, because the one you like, will leave you for the one they love.' But she left. So in conclusion, hurling a ,life, long revenge in one unspoken sentence. ' I-never-loved-you.'
We say ' I love you.'-Share the friendly words. But I was never talking from anywhere but my heart. She spoke from her mouth. I know her. I love her. And she tells me. ' I always set myself up.' I'm going to tell her today she's gone, and done it again. I talked to him. He had a blade to his wrist. And-all-you-can-do-is-smile. I didn't save him. I know. Neither did you. But I didn't give him the blade. I didn't silently egg him on. Lead him on.-Like you. And if I had. I would be sorry. But not you. Maybe your pretending like its all a game? Someone’s LIFE. IS.Not.A.Game.OK? Live.Love.Learn. Move On. Don't forget. Its all or nothing. Don't pass go. Don't move forward-Just sit in your hell hole-forever. And then, one day, when forever has past, you can tell me you know what its like. To.Be.Me. Fake smile. I can tell you caught it. You don't know me either. But you know Katie. You know her JUST enough.
[Katie]
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11/15/05
Red Hair. Makeup. 14. #11. A new me? Right Oscar. LoLo. Beast. Cous. Chels. NO.1.IS.who they seem.
I'm here In class again. But you don't know who I am? Freckle splashed face. Hair tightly pulled out of my eyes. The people around me wear gray, in hope of blending into the dull walls of this hell. No one really wants to answer any questions. Teachers move their lips, in hope of at least one simple effect, but no one is listening. At least not me. I'm to busy blending. I hear my name. The teacher is smiling. Did she ask me a question?.. Oh fuck.. Here I am writing, and something is actually going on.. I didn't choose the right shade of gray , today. The bells going to ring. I assure myself. Miracles can happen, to people like me. Maybe for once, I will be able to write in this goddamn thing, Something good happened today, I was literally saved by the bell. Oh ya. By the Way, I don't think I have a single freckle. And I use my hair, like the color gray, to help me hide. But you don't know who I am? Give Up. Because, your never going to get it.
[Katie]
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11/18/05
Its 1:33pm. I'm going to acting. The only class I like, and we're taking a test. Luckily I'm finished. My writing is on this page is huge and messy.
Ok... I'll be a pervert.
'Cus I like it like that.'
Anyways. This page is almost done, and I know you love me, so i;ll tell you what i usually end up telling everyone else..
Merry Christmas.
You Bitch.
[Later that morning]
9:06. 'Emo woman, what’s wrong?'-Janie. I am the only one here who did my work, and everyone is passing around my paper. Sleepover on Friday. Lauren 'cant' go because---Excuses. Janie can't go. And Bryan is only going for Dani.[Its Later this month, and I'm typing these up. Bryan never came].So um.. Hello, and goodbye. I'm so dead- the usual. I don't have a life, really. Who are my friends? I don't even know, No one is the same.
Never Will Be The Same
[Katie]
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11/29/05
Its been a while since I last wrote-and I have seen even more of my friends. I did what I should have done a while ago- I confronted her. And I know it sounds cliché, like always, but I'll say it anyways, things feel like they are back to old times.
This has proved to be a fantastic journal [ or whatever] to write in-and get out my deepest feelings. I love that. Maybe I will read over my other journals-later? Yea. No? Well.
[Poems were written here. They are already published however.]
[Katie]
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11/30/05
Its 11:06. Just before acting. There’s a reason no one has ever called me considerate. I'm just not. Adam asked me out, two days ago. I told him, we should still be friends. That decision, those words alone, I know, will lead to my pain later on. I don't want to be his friend. God. I need someone to relate to, too bad I keep on blocking them out.- I really have no choice. Still an hour and fifteen minutes till I'm free of here. Poems? I'll check. Where? My mind of course. Its 11:36 now. Its only been 30 mins. 45 left?
Well.
Its time to stop being Katie
Time to be an actress.
[Same person?]
I contradict myself..
A lot
[Katie]
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12/1/05
'Today I am going to write about a journey. A journey of a small girl-long ago-not me. A girl who set off to find love, and her soul, but most of all just find herself. It was a struggle more immense, more morose than many. Experiences no young girl should have to go through- she did. One day she sat down, and began to write, each finished page revealing a part of herself to the world, and in her writing she found strength, love, comfort, and eventually even confinement. She learned how to hide herself behind the words. She learned how to inspire, she learned how to learn. Years passed, struggles passed, and she kept on writing. Journals, Poems, Stories. ‘Pieces of her heart?’ but it was much later in her life, when she sat down one day to write about her journey, that she found out she had indeed found love, her soul, and herself. And thank god, because if she had never pulled out that spiral notebook, that first day, that little girl would have never become who I am, and I would still be struggling in a world, not at all my own.
[Later that night]
‘Where has her father gone? Who will teach her right from wrong? Who will hold her tight, when she has no will to fight? What she needs is this-sadly, She needs no father, She needs a daddy. ‘Bryan isn’t here today, and I’m having withdraws. I miss him. Its 1:10 pm. I am so sick of so many guys. [Not all.] But most. ‘ What video is it? A porno?’ Well.<-- Some kid just asked that. Whatever. We are all like some huge, dysfunctional family. And, we are about to watch Lion king. So…. It goes.
[Katie]
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hmm...this is a different write from what i'm used to. But, this is just as good as others i have read. You've really done a good job, your descriptive words are so beautiful, it sure makes the story flow along very nicely. Keep up this great work!!
I encourage you to keep writing, you're a talented writer.
All my love
Stephani
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