Dear Friend,
Here is my first installation, it’s about a friend I had in high school. What do you think?:
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New faces, new people, new friends. I find it funny that my parents made me transfer schools to keep me away from friends that were so-called “bad influences” on me. Now the tables have turned — I am the so-called “bad influence” at this school.
It wasn’t long before I made some friends. Though it was long before I could open up to them.
I would always get the same weak consolations time after time. They’d say I have a perfect life. I’m told I’m beautiful. They say that they wish they were me. How come, then, do I wish to be anybody but who I am? Anywhere but where I am?
It’s strange how being alone makes you think of things that you don’t think of normally. I mean, if I were with my friends right now instead of at home waiting to pick my brother up from school I wouldn’t be thinking about my life.
Why is it that a house that can be so cozy and comfortable at times feel so big and empty? Even my dog doesn’t want to be alone. I absentmindedly stroke her ears as my thoughts drift along, each one getting darker, heavier.
My eyes fall on a bottle on my dresser.
It’s amazing how easy it is to slit your wrists when your body is filled with painkillers.
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Always,
Me.
