SO here are two more enrtries, some of the time was becasue I had nothing to write, so there we are. Enjoy ;D xxx Max
It’s Sunday now. Away from school for what, five days? They phoned here, and when I answered they were demanding why I hadn’t turned up for so long and if I was sick. I just told them to shove their education up their butts and that I don’t plan on coming back anytime soon.
Still have no clue where my mother is, no one knows. But the funny thing is, no one cares. I ask if they’ve seen her, they just look at me weirdly and shake their head. They wouldn’t tell me even if they had because as I said, they don’t care.
I’ve been getting some letters in the mail box, nailed to the door and under the door. They aren’t important though... to me. It’s funny how they think it gets to me, but really, I’m so over the line I can’t even see it anymore.
Most of the notes just consist of them telling me to kill myself, saying about how homosexuals shouldn’t exist, why they hate them and what they do to them. Also, I got two about my mother. They said she’s probably realised how much of an emo gay bastard I am and left me finally. But it’s weird how I agree now.
I literally don’t care about anything, my mum, school, the ass holes, my life; anything. I don’t even care if I died right now!
I read back a few pages before I started writing this, over the... two days? I don’t know, maybe two days I was happy. Those two days I was happy was after I had met Gerard, when I hung out with him.
So pretty much al day all I’ve done is read the same two, three entries?
I’ve memorized it, and I now think of myself as a love obsessed teenaged girl. I seriously need to get a life....
Frank, 22 November.
Note: Writing this down is pointless now... right? I’m thinking of maybe starting up school again.
Monday. I went back to school today and had my head smashed against the lockers by the group that helped drive me away in the first place. I ended up in the nurses office for a while, but the funny thing is, Gerard almost looked at me apologetically.
While they all we happily banging my head into the metal repetitively, Gerard stood back staring at me, flinching with every hit. It was weird because I couldn’t take my teary eyes off him. I was numb, I couldn’t feel the pain in my head nor the pain when they cut my arm open with a house key stating that “I’m used to it” because they saw the scabs and fresh cuts on my arm which, I haven’t told you about. Then, when they were leaving, I passed out, then woke up in the nurses office with Gerard walking out the door and the nurse saying thank you to him. Did he carry me in there? If he did, why the hell would he do it?
Frank, 23 November.
Note: First day back and I'm already bruised. Why do I bother?