Dear Journal,
One mistake changed my life, one mistake I can never take back. no one believes me anymore. I could scream the house is on fire, and they would all strut inside to make sure it TRULY was engulfed in flames. I can tell no one anything! Because no matter who it is, they tell. my life is in a microscope and being watched 24/7. I no longer have any freedoms-which shoves me-even deeper still into the dark hole Ive been trying to claw out of for months. The numbness spreads, the overwhelming wave of nauseating loneliness and rejection settles.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I think pschological help would be beneficial Melanie...maybe it'd give us some answers on why exactly you've been feeling the need to act the way you do," my dad stumbled on the subject, "Don't turn it down until you've had a few sessions."
Just call me a serial killer and put me in a straight jacket NOW why don't you?!
"Umm, if that's what you think Dad," I mumbled quietly.
He cleared his throat, "I think there's more behind your choices. Ther's got to be. And I want to know what it is."
So you want to have some PHD wanna-be Doctor pick my brain? Why? To see if I need meds? Then maybe I'll be your little baby again? Newsflash Dad, I'm GROWING UP, everyone does it!!
"Sure Dad. I'll go if that's how you feel," I replied monotonously.
Might as well be a mime.
"Okay, we'll get on that tomorrow then. Right away, I promise."
Out of all the promises he's made me, this is the one he'll probably keep. Not the one where he tod me he would take me to Disney World, or get me a horse, or get off work early to attend my Band concert...But the one where he gets some stuck-up chick to ask me "and how do you feel about that?" every five minutes...He'll keep this one, I can tell.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear journal,
Who would have guessed my own father wants to turn me into the psychward? I sure as hell wouldn't have. My heart dissolves with each "talk" we have. Which turns out to be nightly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Hello, you must be Karl?" I asked softly as the older man sat down in the chair in front of me, "You were Melanie's father?"
Just by the mention of her name this intimidating yet softly featured man took in a shaky breath, on the verge of tears, "That is me. Or WAS me."
His voice was rumbly but glazed with a sound of true dispair, "How would you sum up your daughter? Did you see this coming?"
"She...she was my one and only first daughter," and with that, this strongly featured man began to cry, but tried to compose himself, "Mel-Melanie was a hard kid sometimes, but so was I...Her love for the family was tremendous, she was much loved by everyone else in return. I always told her to be a leader, to stay strong. She was smart...always had her head in a book-even at the dinner table, sometimes we would have to pry it out of her hands just for her to socialize. I never knew she was going through THIS much. I didn't know exactly how she felt, she stopped opening up."
I nodded sympathetically, "So when you say she stopped opening up..do you know WHY?"
"Well...probably because some of the stuff I responded to when she DID open up, wasn't what she wanted to hear. but...she became quieter, easliy aggrivated, in a shell almost."
More like a living hell if you ask ME.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You must be Jo?" I raised my eyebrows slightly, the grandma of Melanie looked much like Lara...
She nodded curtly, That is who I would be, and you?"
For a moment I didn't know how to respond, but stuck out my hand, "Grace Omen, nice to meet you."
She shook it gently then sat down, "Now don't think my granddaughter was a bad ass type girl. She was just the opposite really. Compassionate, and she sure loved banana bread."
Once again silenced by the her response and upfront personality I tried to understand her reasoning for telling me this.
"I just didn't want you to look at her case of...taking her life and automatically think she's an angry average teen getting back at her parents or getting away from bullies. I may not know the exact reason, but I know I wish she'd have talked to me first. Foolish girl, never really liked looking helpless in front of others."
I cleared my throat, "I can promise you I thought no such thing."
She fluttered her eyes, quickly wiping a tear off her cheek, "She should have talked to me, always pretend'n to be strong-that one is. Like her mother.