TW// suicidal ideation, rape, sexual assault, abuse

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Names have been changed to protect the author's privacy.

(December 31, 2021) Dear Diary,

We all have those days when we get a lump in our throat and it hurts to breathe. Tears sting the back of your eyes as every breath you take rips your lungs from the inside. You shake uncontrollably and you don’t know why. You hide behind a smile, wishing someone could understand your pain. Willing to do anything to experience a single taste of happiness again. Secrets bubble inside of you, waiting for you to mess up, waiting to be shared in a moment of vulnerability. Instead, you don’t speak unless spoken to. You’ve learned that the best way to protect yourself is to slam on the brakes before you even turn the key.

I’m used to this pain. My bipolar depression worsens with every breath I take. I don’t have a reason to get up in the morning. When I do open my dull brown eyes, I can’t speak. My throat is coated with a thick layer of mucus from crying right before I fell asleep.

At least I was able to look forward to today. Tonight was the night of the annual New Year's Dance that my church holds. I do enjoy going out and spending time with my friends. I took careful consideration while picking out my outfit as I thought about who would be there. The entire day felt groggy as if I saw the world through blurred vision. The clock ticked slowly, but as the sun set behind the trees, dusk finally arrived.

I stared at the stranger in the mirror and practiced my smile. I despise living in a house with mirrors; the walls pick me apart. Maybe my skin would be thicker if I lived in a house without them. I’m normally really good at pretending, but it feels more empty than it looks. I hate my smile. One side curves more than the other and my eyes squint highlighting the bags under them. When I felt my grin was convincing, I left.

I found my friends, Michael and Maya, in the back hallway on the couch of the auditorium. I put on my Happy Mask and went to join them. We talked and laughed until we couldn’t breathe. A slow song began to fill the hallway with its haunting melodies. Some people left our area to go dance, while others came in from the gym to avoid the embarrassment of being rejected. A male with poofy black hair and pure blue eyes came to sit down beside Michael.

The world seemed to melt around me as my eyes met his. My legs grew weak as he laughed and playfully hit Michael on the shoulder. It’s obvious that they’ve been friends for a while, so why haven’t I seen him before? He has an award-winning smile and freckles that dot his fair face. He is noticeably a year or so older than I am. A guy like that is hard to overlook.

I spent the entire night attempting to impress him. I had no idea if I was succeeding, but at least I made him smile. He knows I exist now. Maya managed to convince us to walk to the gas station across the street. I recorded our walk there and persuaded the mystery boy to buy me an M&M chocolate bar. The rare ones you can barely find anywhere.

The night flew by, unlike earlier. Back at the dance, the final song of the night was playing - a slow song. The mysterious guy sat by the wall. He tipped his head toward the ceiling and exposed a different side of him. He looked… lonely. I suddenly felt protective over him. My heart longed to dance with him. To feel his arms wrapped around me. My previous courage vanished, so I sat next to him to keep him company.

I listened to him talk. His favorite color is blue and the last time he was at a dance, he was stood up. I can’t understand how someone can take him for granted. He is funny, caring, outgoing, kind, the list goes on. He is everything someone would want in their partner. I don’t know how I pulled it off, but we exchanged phone numbers.

(March 7, 2022) Dear Diary,

He and I talk every hour of every day. I finally found a reason to get up in the morning. A reason to jump every time a notification pops up. I always hope it’s him. He takes my sadness and turns it into smiles. I look forward to seeing him. Every depressive episode I have, he is there and never leaves my side. He is perfect.

We had our first hangout outside of church today. It was at his house with his four siblings and parents. It wasn’t a date or anything, just a friendly get-together. He showed me his 3D printer and printed a customized puzzle keychain for me. It was like a cheap friendship necklace that said, “You are my missing piece.” My part has the first four words and he has the word, “piece”.

He sang me the song, “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran on his guitar. It was romantically cringy, but it meant the world to me. We watched his favorite show and talked about my third favorite reptile with his younger siblings. He took pictures of me on my phone when I wasn’t looking. We had a dance party and sang karaoke until we couldn’t breathe. I realize that I wasn’t just in love with him, I love his family like my own. How old do you have to be to claim you’re in love?

We lay together on his bed. My head was on his chest while his arms were around me. Just like I envisioned at the dance. The lights were off and the blinds were closed creating a dim environment. I wasn’t nervous, I felt comfortable. He told me that I was ‘pretty’ and for the first time, I thought that I was. He then leaned forward and kissed my forehead. There was no place I’d rather be. He felt safe. He felt more like home than home ever felt.

(March 23, 2022) Dear Diary,

I keep lying to my parents, making up ideas that he and I are hanging out in a group of friends. Mainly saying that our other friends would meet us there. I’m not allowed to date, let alone be alone with a guy. We are putting so much effort into being together. This is the happiest I’ve been since I was eight years old. Lying to my parents hurts, but I deserve to be happy too, right?

He drove to my house and brought me ice cream since I was alone. We sat outside on my trampoline and watched the sunset. I looked up at him, his blue eyes were focused on the sky. I leaned my head onto his shoulder and he rested his head on mine. I felt the walls I built around my heart tumble down. I’m terrified. I usually avoid trusting people, it’s like giving someone a gun and hoping they won't pull the trigger, but I trust him with my life. With him, I am genuinely happy.

(June 6, 2022) Dear Diary,

Today was supposed to be a regular hangout with him. The sun glimmered as the clouds were high in the sky. Melodies of the ice cream truck could be heard down the street along with the laughter of children at the park. Rows of flowers of all different shapes and sizes were blooming.

He drove to my little sister’s swimming competition to keep me company. Once she was done, we asked my parents if he could take me to meet with Michael and Maya. That was another lie. Michael and Maya wouldn’t be with us as we explored the city.

We were out for a few hours when he told me he was going to take me to dinner. We got into his car and began driving. It seemed like we were heading deeper into a forest instead of closer to the city. When I asked where we were going, he told me it was a surprise. Cool, I like surprises.

We pulled into a forest. Civilization wasn’t seen for miles, this place seemed abandoned. He got out of the car and pulled out a black cloak - impossible to see through.

“What is that?” I asked him.

“A blindfold,” He responded nonchalantly.

“Why?”

“Well, it’s a surprise,”

“How will I know where I’m going?”

“I’ll lead the way, you just have to trust me,” He smiled. His ocean eyes gleamed in the sunset. He tied the blindfold around my eyes and held my hand as he guided me through the forest.

We walked for what felt like a few miles, but we were talking along the way so it wasn’t that bad. I did end up tripping, but he caught me and we laughed together. He finally stopped and took off my barrier. In front of me was a setup of thick blankets in the middle of a grove of trees. It was beautiful. Rays of sunlight seeped through the leaves while butterflies fluttered around.

“Ta-da!” He announced, proud of his work.

“A picnic?” I smiled excitedly. Cool, I like picnics.

“Not exactly…” He smirked. I didn’t like the tone of his voice.

I turned to face him. A jolt of fear passed through me. “What do you mean..?” My grin faded from my face.

“You’ll see.” He grunted as he shoved me to the blankets.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I shivered quietly when he was done with me. My cheeks were dry from hot tears and my throat was raw from my shouts. I wrapped myself in the dirty blankets. I was exhausted from screaming and fighting him. My efforts to get away were easily overpowered. I still can’t believe what he’s done to me. 

My heart is pounding, my chest feels like it’s going to explode. My thoughts are racing over a thousand miles an hour. How could he do this to me..? Why me? Who can I tell? I can’t tell anyone! I wasn’t supposed to be alone in the first place! My friends would hate me. My parents will disown me. What would my church think? He had to have planned this or else the blankets wouldn’t have been there. I was so naive for trusting him. I hate him, but more importantly, I hate myself the most.

(June 7, 2022) Dear Diary,

I despise waking up in my body. My body feels raw and exposed. Dirtied by someone I thought I loved. I guess I mean nothing to him. It hurts to breathe, I simply can’t breathe. My heart feels rotten inside of me. My throat is tightened and my eyes constantly fill with tears. I tried to move my body, but it wouldn’t cooperate. I can’t leave my bed. I’m paralyzed.

Cuts and bruises lined themselves on my arms from my attempts to get away. My parents asked me what happened when I got home and I told them I fell. Every lie is eating me from the inside out. I can’t take it. I’ve already started lying to my parents about hanging out with him and now I have to keep this secret from them too. I feel so guilty. I want to escape from it all, but my brain won’t listen to my rotting heart.

I checked my phone. 11 unread messages. All from him. His name brings a fear that I never thought I’d have to encounter. This isn’t a nightmare, it’s my reality. As soon as I opened the messages, a flood of anger boiled through my veins. I typed out a response with no feelings of forgiveness in mind. He stole something I treasured. He was my everything and I loved him, yet a stone wall encloses my heart. My chest tightened. I don’t care about how he feels. I don’t care about how anyone feels.

(June 18, 2022) Dear Diary,

I’ve lost myself in loving him. It’s sad, but I can’t recall who I was. I can't find the person I was before I met him six months ago. He’s ruined all my favorite things to do. I passed the arcade yesterday and I keep getting flashbacks of him. I hit my head against any surface hoping to drown out the thoughts and memories.

Some days I can’t even trust myself. My mind keeps playing tricks on me. If I’m walking downtown and I see someone who looks like him, I begin to panic. I want to run and hide. It’s hard to sleep because I’m thinking of ways I can escape. When I do sleep, I have nightmares of him grinning uncannily as he does what he wants to me. I wake up hyperventilating and crying, but I force myself to stay silent. No one can know. The screams all sound the same. The tears I cry are hurting. The lights blur as I scream within my muted world.

(July 10, 2022) Dear Diary,

Bursts of violence and anger are becoming more and more frequent as the rape and assault continue. The world used to move so fast through my closed eyes, but now I don’t know when it’s going to stop, all I can do is pray it will end soon. With every attack, I grow even more exhausted than the last. My hope is demolishing by the second. I’m so tired of sitting and waiting. Is it ever gonna change?

It isn’t just him I’m fighting. I’m starting to pick fights with my friends, throw things at my sisters, and yell back at my parents. It feels like someone has possessed my body. Every little action irritates me up to the point where I’d begin to cry out of frustration. I don’t know how to explain it. My heart is being held captive, rotting piece by piece every day.

Words I say aren’t processing, even after they escape my mouth. Every single word that leaves my tongue feels like it comes from someone else. I am alive, but I’m not living. It’s like I’m watching myself in a TV show. I don’t know what’s going to happen next. It is petrifying.

Just a few weeks ago was the end of the summer arts program at my school. I remember when someone walked in on me crying and I had to tell them that I didn’t want to go home. At least that wasn’t a lie. Going home and having to undergo the attacks day after day. My body is violated, I’ve been used up to expose the empty shell that I call my skin. I just can’t handle the thoughts anymore. The voices get so loud. My screams are just whispers compared to them.

I am losing all of my friends. I’m an outcast. Sometimes it just hits me out of nowhere. This overwhelming sadness and hopelessness knowing that I’ll never be the same again. I get discouraged and upset and once again I feel numb to the world. I am lost and alone and there is no one to blame but myself. Every night I scream to a God that I don’t even know if I believe in. I reopen my scars to feel something other than weakness. I just want the pain to go away.

(July 26, 2022) Dear Diary,

One of my bursts of anger got me in trouble and my phone was taken away. I yelled at my parents again. I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t, my mouth moved on its own. My brain was screaming at me to stop talking, but I was in too deep. I could feel my subdued eyes throw daggers. I glared at them with hatred rising beneath my disgusting skin.

Their precious little daughter has been wishing she was dead since she was eight years old and they can’t even see. They don’t care to see the pain I’m going through; the pain I’ve inflicted on myself. They think I’m just an ungrateful teenager who doesn’t know what sadness is. Maybe I don’t know what sadness is, maybe I’m supposed to be happy because someone loves me enough to constantly touch me day after day, week after week.

He won’t give up. No matter how much I sob or scream or fight. I just wanted someone to love me. I wanted to feel accepted and admired. I wanted to be happy. Why can’t I be happy? Everything that comes out of my mouth is a cruel lie. Do I even deserve to feel okay?

(July 27, 2022) Dear Diary,

My parents have found out. I should be relieved, right? This burden has finally been lifted off of my chest, but they think the intercourse was consensual. They think I wanted my body to be torn to shreds day after day. They don’t know what it’s like.

I can’t tell anyone it was rape because they wouldn’t believe me and I can’t erase the lies I’ve told. They all knew I was in love with him. That’s one of the reasons he knew he could do this to me. I never expected him to take advantage of me. No one will know the way I screamed, the way I fought and cried. No one will know the way I hate myself for blindly following him or how I torture myself every night so I can feel pain I’m able to control.

My parents screamed and threw objects at me. Telling me I’m a disappointment and I should’ve been a better daughter. They told me that I’m sickening and they didn’t want me in the first place. I’m trying my best not to get hurt, but my rotten heart shattered. I became determined for the first time in a while. I could do them a favor and take my life. I’d make them happy and I would be happy. I never wanted to let them down.

I’ve tried to kill myself before. This isn’t anything new. I’d be free from the truth that no one will know. Maybe I can finally feel peaceful and loved as I’m held in the arms of my friends that were taken from Earth too soon.

I’m so tired. I’m tired of having someone else control my body and not knowing what I’ll say next. I’m tired of hating the person I’ve become. I’m tired of holding onto secrets that are told in a voice that isn’t mine.