Go Ask Alice, When She's Ten Feet Tall.

i read a book these past two days.

about a girl who just didn't know how to feel.

it hit home because the numbness running through her arms and legs;

ran through mine 720 + days ago.

i highlighted and marked it,

grasping any substance from this diary that shouldn't have been publicized.

i spent what would have been a lovely time on sand dunes with friends,

sticking my nose in the memories of this young adolescent.

this poor, ignorant, naive, sad, sad, soul.

but this is what she wrote that hit me.

bear with me, it will be long.

but it's what her heart wrote.

it's my birthday. i'm 15. nothing.

i want so much to be someone important

maybe the new me will be different.

i'm not really sure which parts of myslef are real and which parts are things i've gotten from books

i've lived in this room all my fifteen years, all my 5,530 days.

i'm certaintly no bargain

sometimes i think we're all trying to be shadows of each other

i don't want to be a robot!

maybe things will look brighter tomorrow

but i better paste on the fake, phony smile

one, two, three and here goes the martyr.

there had to be something in life that was worthwhile.

like oil and water, i can't quite adapt or fit

i just wasn't listening or maybe i didn't want to listen

i'll never think of it again

i wouldn't want anyone to know i've really used them

maybe Lewis Carroll was on drugs too.

my mind still flutters with the wonder of it all.

i'm living with doubts and apprehensions and fears that i never dreamed possible.

oh, terrors, horrors, endless torment.

i must forget about everything.

at this stage of my life, nothingness is a lot better than somethingness.

she holds up everybody and everything but me, and man have i been let down.

i was the only sane and perfect being.

if there were medals and prizes for stupidity and gullibleness i would certaintly receive the half-assed one.

it was a lovely experience which only makes me more lonely.

i wanted to be ripped, smashed, torn up as i had never wanted anything before.

i'm lonely, i'm heartbroken, i hate this whole number and everything it stands for, i feel like i'm wasting my life away.

all dopers are part-time sewer dwellers, the two go hand in hand together.

i wish i could just tear it out of my life.

up, up and away.

i'm so scared, i'm almost sick.

after you've had it, there isn't even a life without drugs.

no one in the world but a doper could know the true opposite of being depressed.

who needs to go down when you can go up?

i'm about to blow.

i don't know if it's the same day or week or year, but who the hell cares anyway?

i'm as sick as i've ever been in my life.

i don't have any stories worth telling.

let somebody else think for us and do for us and act for us.

i just wish i could love myself.

i am being drowned in my own tears, suffocated, submerged, inundated, overpowered.

will i spend the rest of my life feeling like a walking disease??

it seemed to be rolling backwards, like it was rolling in on itself, and there was nothing i could do to stop it.

i used to think i was the only one who felt things

i can barely move.

in fact i understand so little i don't know how i even exist.

i'm really dragged and tired and sad and worn out and fed up.

i'm really afraid.

i have to force myself to take every step.

i'm tired of being left out and pretending it doesn't hurt. i'm so tired that sometimes i just want to run away again and never come back.

i feel like the grayness in all the gray days in the world

i have never been so tired.
i think i have fallen off the face of the earth and that i'll never stop falling.
how can i admit anything when i am so scared i can't even talk?
i wanted to ask God to help me but i could utter only words, dark, useless words which fell on the floor beside me and rolled off into the corners and underneath the bed.
sometimes i think death is the only way out of this room.
in a lot of ways i hate myself.
i'm sure without drugs i'll be scared out of my mind.
do you think life can get by you without your ever seeing it?
sometimes i wish i had never been born.

when i read this truth, i get ill.
imagining all the shit this girl, this unknown girl, went through..
it's hard to tell that people, appearing normal, have all these weights in their bags and backpacks;
when they stand up straight, they're actually barely standing.


Dear Anonymous,


I'm sorry that you went through all of this pain.
The numbness, the addictions, and the constant fear of self loathing.
I hoped by the end there was hope for you.
But stories like these never end well.
I wish I knew your name so that I could tell you how great you were. How much of a fantastic and graceful and wonderful person you are.
And so I could walk by your grave and put flowers next to the stone, holding your name.
Holding you.
But I didn't know you.


But I know someone a lot like you.

Hearing your story frightens me for hers.
I want her to be safe; just like your parents wanted you to be.

But all in all, I am sorry.
And I'm glad that your at peace.

to those who skipped to the very end,
i won't be ashamed or annoyed with you; but i'll ask you just one question.
read Go Ask Alice.
i swear it'll change you.

or at least change the way you think.
the way you look at people.

because i won't ever look at them the same.