thirteen
it's completely possible that what i have to say will make sense to someone else. let's say that you yourself have been depressed or someone you know has perpetual blues. maybe this would help. i'm going to chop this into different sections so as to make reading easier. here goes...
once upon a time there was a little girl who took life too seriously, too personally. it was too much and too little. she began writing in a diary and that diary began to scare her. every day she would write things in there that she would never speak to a soul. she wanted to open all those bottles in her grandmother's bathroom and let the pills slide down her throat. she wanted to drag the hair dryer into the bathtub with her. she didn't look when she crossed the street.
things weren't all bad and no one would have known about the thoughts that raced through the little girl's mind. she was tempted every day by the opportunity to damage or exit the life she was living. she was nine. everything hurt and she knew that nine was really young to be so sad. so the little girl smiled and pretended. she got very good at make believe.
she made a vow to herself: "i will make it until my 13th birthday. i will be a teenager then." she didn't really want to be a teenager but she knew that it was good to have goals. it was good to keep trying. things continued to grow dark around her and her diary continued to fill with sad thoughts and escape plans.
she made thirteen. she looked into her eyes in the mirror and challenged herself to make 18. she would then be able to vote, to buy porn, to smoke. she listened to songs that talked of teens who had their lives cut short... 'teen angel', 'running bear', 'tell laura i love her'. it sounded sad but pointless. these people died because of accidents. they had so much to live for and hadn't chosen to leave. she felt more depressed because she continued to pry her imagination for a way out.
she got hit by a car. she had seen the large truck coming her way and saw that her friend was a few feet ahead of her. she heard the young girl in the truck scream and she felt the grill of the truck slam into her back. her palms scraped the gravel and she laid there on the street. people started approaching and waited for her to move. she'd failed in this and she didn't want to make the people stand about waiting for her. she drew herself off the pavement and hobbled to the sidewalk. she would have to find another way.
the ambulance driver saw her underwear as he examined her back. another embarrassment. her parents ran in looking concerned. she braved a smile for them and hoped that this might have knocked some thoughts out of her head. the pills, the cars, the knives...
