A Missing Point of View

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People are always asking me how I’m so happy all the time. They don’t even know the half of it. I’m a cheerleader. Pretty, blonde, popular, perfect boyfriend, what could possibly have me so down? Well, there’s Jay. Cute, funny, every girls dream guy on the surface. We’ve been together since we were 15. I thought he was perfect. He would always write me cute notes and hide them in pockets and mysterious places for me to find. Not anymore. At one point he had me so hypnotized that I would do anything under his power. The memories I hold of the past seem to blur together, and I can’t even remember a time when we were completely happy. Jay uses. I stopped trying to stop his drug habit after a while. It’s always harmless fun to Jay, but he has a problem. Drug after drug, needles, pills, and bottles. I don’t even remember what he’s like sober. When I try to get through to him, I’m putting myself in danger. On top of his addiction anger, Jay can't help but get jealous. “Emmy, don’t hang out with him. Emm, you look like a s***, don’t even think about going to a party when I’m not there.” His anger takes over, and between his mood swings and controlling nature I never know what to expect. One second he will be the perfect boyfriend I fell in love with, and the next he will push me away and find something wrong with me. It’s my fault. His anger, his unhappiness, its all my fault. There must be something wrong with me. Sometimes I wish I could change to make him happy. When he gets mad enough, he takes it out on me. Physically. My fragile body has become beaten and bruised over time, and I’m becoming scared to go near him. But somehow I still love him. Every time he hits me, I dig a cold, sharp knife deep into my wrists, leaving blood gushing from my arm and tears and mascara running down my cheeks. One cut appears, then another, then another. I’m numb. This is the only way to feel pain. It was December 14th, also the day of our anniversary. I was feeling extra down today, but I couldn’t show it. I wouldn’t show it. I got very good at putting up a wall, to keep my emotions and insecurities inside and everybody else out. I don’t want people getting inside my head. Jay didn’t even acknowledge me today. Did he forget our anniversary? Is he just in one of his moods? I hadn’t seen him yet and it was already third period. Sometimes I really doubt the way he feels about me. It’s not like he hadn’t cheated on me with numerous girls and that s*** named Stefi. I wanted to let him know how I felt. I wrote him a long heartfelt and honest letter explaining how hurt I was, and how all I wanted was for things to go back to the way they were. I waited until lunchtime, and still no response. Plus, I know he must have seen the letter. He always goes back to his locker after third period. I felt tired and lonely, like someone had placed a heavy brick on my chest and I couldn’t breathe. I went home right after lunch. That night, I locked myself in the upstairs bathroom and sat against the wall for hours, thinking about Jay and the letter. I felt nothing. I picked up the knife, and without stopping the force, dug the knife as hard and as deep into my wrist as I was capable of. I wanted to stop, but I just couldn’t. I stared at the bloody knife lying on the cold tile floor. Dizzy. Blurry. Depression. Sharp. Numb. Pain. Breath. Life. Death. He never even called.


I love Emmy. She’s beautiful. I just wish she could see that in herself. I don’t mean to be the way I am, just sometimes I can’t handle things. When I see her look at other guys, I can’t stop my anger. I usually take it out on her, but I just can’t help it. When I get that mad, most of the time I’m using. Emmy always hated drugs, but I also hate when people tell me what to do. Who does she think she is, my mother? I love Emmy so much, that she mistakes my protection for controlling. Yeah sometimes I tell her not to go places, but it’s just because of my fear of losing her. Any guy would kill to get his hands on Emm. Emmy’s convinced that she’s the route to my unhappiness. Sometimes I have to believe it. She’s clingy, and winey, and tired around me, but around everyone else she seems like a ray of sunshine. I just get so frustrated sometimes, and things spin out of control. I usually end up getting physical, and she ends up crying. I usually turn things around and put them on her, but I know it’s not her fault. I just can’t control my emotions. Things are never good between us, and they haven’t been since we were fifteen and I would write Emm little notes. She always loved those. Another thing that gets me frustrated: the wall that Emmy has built up around herself. She shuts everyone out, even sometimes me. She just doesn’t get it. The fact that what she does has a huge effect on me. We don’t ever talk personally anymore. Only a quick “hi” and “goodbye”. It’s not only the fact that Emm is afraid to let people in, but sometimes it just feels like she’s scared to go near me. Whenever she does, it usually ends badly. On December 14th, I woke up with a bad migraine. I was eager to go to school, because exactly 2 years ago, I had asked Emm out. I was planning on leaving a little note in her locker, reminiscing on old times when we didn’t have it in us to fight. My plan obviously didn’t work out. Later that afternoon, my best friend Damen texted me. He said a note from Emmy had fallen right out of our locker today, and he wanted to stop by my house to give me the note. I had no problem with it, so he came and dropped it off. After Damen left, I sat in my room for a few minutes staring at the unopened letter, and a bad premonition came over my body. I slowly opened the seal of the envelope, and read the contents. I could hear Emm saying the words inside my head, and I suddenly felt sad, a feeling like I used to get at age fifteen. She truly thought I had forgotten our anniversary. I quickly rushed over to her house, and the windows seemed dark like nobody was home. I went through the backdoor and up the stairs, and slowly knocked on her bedroom door. She wasn’t there. I walked down the hall and saw a bright light coming from a small crack in the bathroom door. I opened the creaking door with caution, and there she was. My Emmy. Lying on the cold tire floor covered in blood. I loved her. She looked so small. I immediately screamed and called 911, but it was too late. I knew she wasn’t breathing. She was gone, and I never even got to tell her how much I love her.





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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

Laughternchoclate said...
Mar. 20, 2010 at 12:21 pm
Eh... why is everything so depressing? STOP AND THINK! I am so sick of 'i loved her. She died. She loved me. she killed herself! Not to take it out on you, this is good, but ugh!!!
 
SofieG replied...
Mar. 21, 2010 at 9:33 am
haha I'm sorry you feel that way...thank you for the compliment but sometimes the most passionate stories hit serious issues.
 
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