I don't sleep. All night long I'm wide awake, thinking, Secrets, secrets, secrets. There are secrets in my past no one needs to know. Secrets in my present that might kill Kim and Chip. I don't want to take my secrets with me when I go. When I pass through the light, i want to be free of everything and everyone.
I've never been afraid of the dark. I'm more afraid of the day, of people. I love the night. The solitude. Well, I don't love it. I don't feel love. I hate people, so I hope when I get there it isn't crowded. I hope the light is a momentary phenomenon and the other side is completely black. And silent.
At times like this, I'm thankful I don't feel love.
I want to tell them, "Chip, Kim, there is no way to suicide-proof a person.
I wish I could tell my parents, " If you want to help me, help me die.
Everything seems to be working." Except me. I'm broken.
I'm sorry you don't get it, Mom. Sometimes I don't get why I do the things I do. I just know I wake up every morning and wish I was dead.
With determination and purpose, I head into the light.
His invitation lingers. So does my question. Why me? I don't know the answer. When I look at myself in the mirror, all I see is a starving, stunted bird who never grew wings and lost all reason to sing.
Everyone's a liar. Everyone I've ever known.
Would I cheat to save my soul? No. But to save my G.P.A.? Yes.
My mother read that parents should spend quality time with their children. One way is to sign up for organized activities together. This month we're taking meditation to free the mind. Last month it was Rolfing. Have you ever Rolfed, Tone?" "Only after the school's shepherd's pie," I said.
Year after year. "Please don't make me go [to school]" "You have to go," Kim would say. "It's a new school, make a new start." "Sticks and stones." from Chip. Words will only kill you.
You would never understand, Kim. You think I'm normal; you wish I was.
I'm going to die a virgin. I like the thought if it. So pure.
Oh sure. Because we always talk about deep down stuff.
Secrets. I can't take then with me. If I do, when I go, when I arrive at my final destination, I'll be . . . impure.
My room is cleared. My head is cleared. Earlier, around dawn, I took out the last load of trash. I look around and see what's left. Nothing. There is no more Daelyn Rice. As I was. As I am. Or will become. I'm a blank slate
I didn't tell him. And I never told her the whole truth. What would it matter? There was nothing she could do; nothing anyone can do or will do.
You won't know until it's over. You won't find me in time.
That same piercing screech in her voice every time at the hospital. "Do something!" When I slit my wrists. "Help her!" The last time too. "Somebody help her. Help us!" You're helpless, both of you. All of us.
I shouldn't have been there. I should never have been born.
I won't be alive so I won't care who finds me.
I knew right then and there nothing was ever going to change. It wouldn't matter if I was tall or short or fat or thin or absent every day. I was a loser from birth.
There's always a way out. All you have to do is take it.
