Dear journal,
I’m 17 years old and I’ve had a hard life. MY English teacher told us that we had a writing assignment. She told us to write about what we know. Everything I know is bad and wrong. Or let me say everything I knew was bad or wrong. Now I’m a junior in high school, have an amazing boyfriend, I make straight A’s, I’m the captain of my cheerleading squad, and I am in the yearbook, French, and community service clubs. It took me a while to get my life together. It wasn’t easy, but I did it and I’m proud of myself. It was a long journey up. Here’s a look into my past…..
I’ve always been a negative, messed up, sick girl. I think negatively about almost everything… the world especially. My life isn’t the best and I’ve never been content with my life. When I was little, I thought my life was absolutely perfect. But that was when I was a cheerful little girl. Now that I’m 13 years old, I’m always depressed, gloomy, and hollow. I’m hardly ever happy anymore. I’ve had my heart broken by different guys. I’ve starved myself because I thought I wasn’t skinny… I thought I was fat, hideous, and useless. But that’s what I am… useless. I’m always sad… and that’s why people just leave me alone. Just one person can break me apart. I’m that sensitive.

When I was 10 I saw my father beat my mother. He pushed her down the stairs. We had wooden stairs in that house. He walked down them towards my mother. Then he started kicking her. Her picked her up and punched her in the face. I ran down the stairs and to the neighbor’s house. The police came but my father was already gone. It ended up in divorce and my father spent some time in jail. I had always had the idea my parent’s had a happy marriage. I had never even seen them have an argument. The day he hit my mother I realized she shielded it from me so I wouldn’t know what was really going on. Later, I thanked her for that. When I was 11 my father was hit by a car and died. I went to his funeral. It didn’t have an effect on me at all. I stood and watched everyone cry and weep, talking about what a good man he was but they didn’t know the real him, the abusive man who beat my mother. They asked if I would say a few word’s during the service. I stood at the podium and said what came to mind. I love my father. I had always thought him to be a good man. But I was extremely wrong. He is two faced. All I have to say is what comes around goes around. That was the last time I saw my father’s casket and his grave. I got over it and my mother and I moved into a different house in the same neighborhood. I was still sad and depressed. In 8th grade, I was anorexic. I starved myself. I hardly ever ate anything, and if I did eat, it was something small and non-fatty. At the end of 8th grade, I got in my mom’s van and she drove me to a doctor’s appointment. The doctors weighed me, they made me pee in a cup, and they talked to me about how I would have to go to the Children’s Hospital in Denver, Colorado. I cried and cried and cried… they tried comforting me, but they didn’t achieve. They gave me a lame tour of the place I would be staying in the hospital. There were couches, chairs, tables, a computer, and the worst thing ever… Food. They made me eat every meal every freaking day. Let me tell you this: I wasn’t happy AT ALL. Who were these people? Shoving disgusting food down a 14 year old girl’s throat? Just horrible. Simply horrible. The next day, I entered that terrible hospital with my mom. My mom was supportive… but not supportive enough. She said everything would be alright and that I’d get through it all… and I did. But in the end, I was 112 pounds. When I walked through those doors, I was 87 pounds. When I walked out of those doors, I was 112 pounds. I thought I looked fat and I felt terrible. I hated that feeling… I can’t even describe how it felt. All I know is that I felt absolutely awful. There were a lot of other girls there too… they were just like me: Anorexic and bulimic. They were all very kind and supportive. We were very supportive of each other. I had fun with them all. I met a lot of friends there and I will never forget them. I actually felt like I belonged… as much as I hated that place, I felt happy there. I will never forget the memories because most of them were fun. I got over my anorexia and I wasn’t happy. But eventually I became happy when I met Jake. I remember the first day I saw him. His curly blonde hair and dark brown eyes gave me butterflies. I was very cautious though. He walked up to me and introduced himself. I said hi and told him my name. He asked me why I always looked so sad. I just told him I had a hard life. Eventually we started talking and hanging out more and I slowly opened up. He became my best friend and we started dating in the middle of ninth grade. By tenth grade he knew everything about me and everything about my life. And for the first time in my life I was okay with that. He never pushed me when I didn’t want to talk about my life, but most of the time I was fine with it. My mother loves him. Actually, she is dating his dad’s best friend. I’m happy because of that. I’ve met him and I know he will treat her right. Jake’s family is amazing. They know where I’ve come from and never judge. They are a big, tight knit open family. The family I always wished to have. Now I accept the way I am and I accept the way I look. It took a while but my life is exactly the way I want it and I couldn’t ask for anything more. Jake and I are great and my mother is getting married in three months. Even though I’ve struggled in my life I think all that I went through has made me a stronger and better person in the end. And I am thankful for that.
-Melanie Collins