Life is life and that’s all u can expect it to be. We look forward to the good times but we dread the bad times. We cant change the past but we can better the future. We have memories we regret and memories we cherish. Life is life and that’s all we can except it to be. I wish I knew that two years ago...then maybe I wouldn’t have ended up the way I have.

Eighth grade started out a good year but ended in a nightmare. I try my hardest not to think about it but on some days I must….

How I long to forget these memories but I know I never will. My nightmare started on the first Monday of CATS testing. Mrs. Campbell came and got me out of my class. The look on her face said it all, my grandmother was dead and my heart was broken.

No words were said as we walked to the office. I knew why she got me out of class, she knew I knew. There wasn’t anything she could have said to ease the pain on my broken, destroyed, ripped in two, shattered, pathetic world. Just her being near me brought more pain. I hated her for it.

My dad was standing outside the door of the office. How could a man so strong look so weak that day? His eyes were red stained from the painful tears. He took my books from my hand and under my breath I muttered, “I must be strong.”

I stepped out of those big glass doors and the sun was smiling bright on my broken, destroyed, ripped in two, shattered, pathetic world. How could it be so cruel? How could it smile? How dare it be happy on the day my grandmother died….I hated the sun.

When my mom stepped out of the car, I broke. Her face was pale and red at the same time. I fell into her arms and started screaming “GOD HELP ME! GOD HELP ME! GOD HELP ME!”

Each word came out in a loud gasp and I couldn’t breath. Yet, I continued to scream; rivers of tears fell down my face as I was gasping, hurting, and dying inside. My heart was destroyed yet again.

Somehow I ended up in the back seat of my car, lying in my moms arms. That’s when it happened the last teat I would cry for a year fell down my cheek. With that teardrop my emotions fell to.

The next day we were at the funeral home. We were all staring at her casket. She was dressed in a bluish green dress. Her face was hard and covered in make up…my granny never wore make up. She never had a manicure. She got all of that and a brand new casket too.

Granny wasn’t granny anymore. This time no tears came, only screams of horror and complete sorrow. I continued to yell for help, though not even God could help. Daddy came when he heard me and managed to get me in the car. Everyone was surrounding me…staring at my pain. They hovered wanting to see granny’s little girl freak out. Everyone got a front roll seat at my nightmare and they all stared unbinking at my weakness. Oh, how I hated people.


As daddy pulled the car from the funeral home, I didn’t think that he could drive fast enough. It felt like it was going so slow and yet the world was spinning so fast. About half an hour and I had calmed down. I was silent as dad said words of encouragement.

“We will get though this……You have to be strong for your mother….In a few months everything will be back to normal.”

I remained silent. Staring out the window and thinking. The thoughts that I was thinking could have killed…me.

He pulled into sonic and ordered me large fries and a coke. I wasn’t hungry, at this time my appetite was gone. However, I did drink. While I was busy drinking I didn’t have to answer my dad or hold a conversation.

I thought he would drop me off at home. I wanted him to take me home. I wanted to lay in my bed and sleep. But no. Before I knew it, I was back at the funeral home.

I hid behind my hair, this was when my wall wasn’t yet built. I had just recently started building a wall to guard my heart. People tried to talk to me. I remain silent. People tried to hug me. I flinched away. When my back was turned I heard what they said. I knew what they thought. Some said I was faking and others gave me their pity. I didn’t want to listen to what they said, I didn’t need their thoughts…I could barely handle my own. I hated the human race, so I stayed off in my little corner. When we finally went home, the silence of my room matched the silence in my heart.


That year ended about a month later and my broken heart grew worse over the summer. During the summer I had no one. At least school kept my mind focused on other things. I tried to keep myself busy so I wouldn’t think about her death. In the end, I only ended up hurting me and the people around me.

I lost contact with friends. Really who needed them anyways? I started arguments with my family. They didn’t understand. As far as I was concerned I DIDN’T NEED ANYONE! All I needed was me, but I hated me.

When school started again everyone noticed that I wasn’t the same happy lovable girl I once was. Nope. I was mean, fearless, and full of hate. Everyone asked the same questions, “Why did you dye your hair darker? Why are you so mean? Why are you always mad? Why did you turn gothic?”

I answered each question with a glare and a f*** you attitude. Did I mention I hated humans?


Christmas came and my anger grew worse. I hated the Christmas lights, the Christmas tree, the Christmas songs, and I hated the holiday cheer. The only thing I liked was the snow. It was so cold and so inviting. I would lay down in the snow and just stare at the sky. My mom and sisters would have to drag me inside but when I was able to get away, I just laid in the white coldness. Maybe the snow could numb my heart?

So Christmas came, I asked for 2 things. The first was to be happy and the second was…well for my dead loved ones back. I got neither. What I did get, was to many useless material items. We woke up early and opened presents. Then we took off on a grand adventure…to the grave yard. Yes I spent Christmas at a graveyard. I actually spoke….I told my mom I didn’t want to go. That I didn’t want to be there.
But yet I ended up there, in a Jack Skeleton t-shirt and Evanescence screaming in my head phones.

I didn’t stay at her grave. The family gathered around it but I lingered else where. I walked up the roles of tombstones. Looking at each name, I began to wonder, does anyone know these people and feel as bad as I do? Under my breath, I muttered Merry Christmas to all of them. Guess what…my heart was broken again…

I arrived home and I locked myself in the bathroom. I was hiding from the family and I was trying to hide from the fact that my grandmother wasn’t here to make everything okay. I looked in the medicine cabinet….I saw something sharp and shiny….and for the first time in a while I felt pain.



I use to wear this black scarf around my wrist. It covered up the scars. It covered my darkest fears. I never went anywhere without it. My sister once asked, “Why do you wear that?”

“Its cool.” Other then that no one paid attention. I liked being a ghost to everyone around me. I was invisible to everyone but Miranda. If I was to die, Miranda and my family would be the only ones that cared. The world would live without me. I was basically a ghost anyways.


January came and the Holiday vacation was over. I returned to school and hung out with my few friends. I hated everyone in school but my best friend Miranda. We would sit and talk about the stupidest things. She actually made me laugh when I was depressed. But then the time came when I couldn’t laugh. When I couldn’t smile. When I couldn’t do anything but soak in the bleakness of my mind.

One day my jacket slipped down my arm, I wasn’t fast enough. She saw them. She glanced away. She didn’t want to see them. She didn’t want to know that her best friend was in so much pain. At first she tried to deny it. However her eyes would linger on my sleeve and I knew she knew. I had to confess to her.

So when there were very little people around, I took her aside and basically pulled my sleeve up so she could get a good look. “I cant handle some things. It gets to hard an I accidentally did this.” She made me promise not to do it again. She made me swear repeatedly. But I didn’t keep my promise….

She caught me doing it again. She saw the cuts and she began to get mad when I talked about ending my life. “Why would you want to die? I would be here alone? You’re my best friend Kristen, I don’t want to lose you.”

I began to worry about how she would handle it. Would she end up like I did when my grandmother died? Fear from not wanting her to end up like me, kept me from killing myself.

At home, I talked to no one. I literally went weeks without speaking. I don’t know if they noticed or not. Maybe they thought it was typical teen behavior. On the off chance that I did talk to my family, it ended in an argument. But I never yelled. I just listened to them yell, I held back my anger…later I would take my anger out on myself.


I started to write poetry all the time. My poems were dark and full of depression. Each one got worse and closer to death. Then finally I flat out wrote a suicide poem. At this point I had basically decided that it was time for my presence to leave earth.



I lived my life in silent anger. Soon my anger began to eat away at my heart until there wasn’t anything left. No one dared to mess with the girl in black until one day in biology. Mrs. Osborne was gone and a sub was filling in for her. The class was loud, hyper, and hectic. I set myself at the end of the very back roll so I wouldn’t be bothered by anyone.

I could ignore reality for only so long and then I was forced to face the truth. These four girls that sit in the roll in front of me started throwing things at Rachel. Rachel turned around and asked me if I saw who was throwing it. I told her who it was. Eventually, she got fed up and just moved across the room to get away from them. I stayed where I was. After all I have been through I would not fear these people that mean nothing to me or to the world.

Since their victim had left they decided it was time to mess with me. Little did they know, I don’t like to be bothered.

“Why did you tell on us?”

“Because I don’t lie.”

“But we did not throw anything.”

I laughed coldly, “Why are you lying. You know liars go to heck but don’t worry. I will be there too.”

They were silent for awhile but the leader of the pack, wouldn’t give up that easy. These girls were known for starting trouble. But I had lost everything I cared about. My friend was basically the only reason I was alive. So I wasn’t afraid. But I was mad.

“Why are you so mean?”

“I’m not mean. I just don’t like you.”

“Do you go to church?”

“I use to but I got sick of the good girl attitude. Don’t you love my new one?”

“Have you ever hurt anyone?”

“Hasn’t everyone?”

“Have you killed anyone?” At this point the biggest one, got up and left to use the restroom. I could tell by her face that she was scared.

My cold glare could have killed them. But I simply replied, “Not yet.” The leader used her fingers to imitate a gun and pointed it at people in the class that she would kill.

“I would kill him…her….her…him…her….her…him…”

“One of you, wants to kill all of them and yet all of them, wants to kill one of you.” I replied coldly. They didn’t understand that reasoning. I pity their unintelligent minds.

“Why did you change?”

“People change.”

“Do you cut yourself?”

“You know curiosity killed the cat.”

“Wait you kill cats?”

Now I was just annoyed. “No I do not hurt innocent animals. Animals don’t bother me. I would only kill things that bothered me.” I looked at each of them as I said this. Staring them down one by one. They got the hint.

The smallest one, she knew me the best, had the nerve to ask, “Is this because your grandmother died?” She didn’t say it rudely or hateful but just the same it made me mad.

All the pain I had ever felt was now anger, all the anger I have ever felt was now rage. Everyone I that had ever made me mad, was now them. I hated them more then the devil himself. I wanted more then anything to hurt them as much as I had been hurt. How dare they mention my grandmother. How dare these stupid girls bring up her death.

“Life and death forced me to change. Are you afraid of death? You know my mom often says she is afraid I will turn into a serial killer. If I do, I will look you up.” I was gripping my desk and laughing like a wild woman. They were afraid and I was enjoying their fear. But someone I knew, Amanda, had seen the whole thing. She forced me to go sit at her table. Ricky said, “Kristen is pissed.”

Kathi said, “Just hurt them in your mind.” She had recently been doing things in her mind, that she would never have done in real life. Which is the only reason she told me that. The 4 girls didn’t say another word to me. When the bell rung, they ran out of the classroom like a bolt of lightening. I rolled my eyes and walked calmly out of the room.


When I walked into my English class, the phone rung. Mrs. Young came up to me and said, “Mr. Carter wants to see you in his office.” The first thought that passed through my mind was. I am in a lot of trouble. Amanda came with me to his office. We had to sit forever in those hard leather seats.

We talked to make the time go by faster. We talked about how stupid this was. We talked about how much trouble I would be in. We talked about how this was my first time in trouble. We talked about how this was my first time in trouble, while I was at school. I slid down in the seat and I closed my eyes. I was still hiding behind my hair.

They called us in. They told us to tell them what happened. There was two adults in his office; Mr. Carter and Mrs. Douglas. Mrs. Douglas was a councilor. I would later find that out.

Amanda spoke first. She told them the basics of what happened. “These girls were picking on Rachel and Kristen stood up for her.” She failed to tell them about my little threat at the end. The girls however, told him everything.


Pretty soon they made Amanda leave. I was alone. That didn’t bother me. I had been alone for about a year now, I could handle this. Mr. Carter began to ask questions about the things the girls said, I said. I basically admitted to everything….well almost everything. One thing they told him made me mad because I never said that.

He asked, “So, do you hurt animals?”

My rage was released at that moment, “I DON’T HURT ANIMALS! IM A FREAKING VEGETARIAN!”

Mr. Carter didn’t flinch. He didn’t seem mad at me yelling. This was the first time I actually showed emotion about anything.

“Do you cut yourself?”

I suddenly pulled at the sleeves of my jacket. I pulled my arms closer to me, wanting to get away from the tragic truth. I didn’t really answer, I think I mumbled something but they didn’t believe me.

Mr. Carters eyes softened, “Can we see?”

Him and Mrs. Douglas walked closer as I slowly and dreadfully pulled up my sleeves. On my left wrist were dark red cuts across my pale white skin. Underneath those were light pink scars from before. I hated looking at them.. Even more I hated the fact that they would always be there. Mrs. Douglas’s cold fingers rand over my cuts, sending chills down my back. Could these really be the first adults to see them? Could they possibly understand the pain and hate that I have held in my heard for so long? I not only longed but I prayed that this was true.

“What did you use?”

I didn’t really understand that question. Honestly did it matter. The fact is I did cut myself. I put those scares on myself. I sighed, “I used anything that could cut.”

Mrs. Douglas sit down in the chair beside me. She took my hand and asked. “When was the last time you cut?”

It had been a week ago, over something stupid. My mother and I had argued over the computer. I didn’t like seeing my mother upset at me; no I hated it more than anything in the world. Pretty soon for them to call her. My mother was already in the parking lot waiting to pick me up from school. When she got called into Mr. Carter’s office she thought I had been into a fight. Mr. Carter basically told her what was going on but I was the one that had to tell her about my scars…about my pain.

I cant even write what I said to her; just the thought of her shocked, sad, and pained face breaks me even now. She started to cry and I couldn’t take it. She kept saying she wish she new. She kept asking why didn’t I tell her. She blamed herself for not knowing but I will never blame her for what I did to myself. It wasn’t her fault that granny died. It wasn’t her fault that I didn’t cope with her death. It wasn’t her fault that I became full of pain and hate. It was mine.

Mr. Carter and my mother talked about what to do about me. They didn’t talk as if I wasn’t there, they included me into the conversation. Though I didn’t want to, it was decided. I would see a psychologist.

When we got home after being in Mr. Carters office fore about two hours, we had a long talk about me. She told me over and over again that she loved me. I broke; my hard, cold, mean, cruel walls that protected my heart came tumbling down. For the first time in about a year I cried, I screamed, I released the pain and hatred that I had held in my soul for what felt like forever. My heart wasn’t destroyed but it wasn’t fixed. The cuts were still open on my heart but now it felt like they could finally heal.

My dad and my sisters helped me so much when they realized what was wrong. They made me feel loved and the made me feel visible again. I was no longer a ghost, I was living. They took me shopping but it wasn’t the stuff I got that made it a good time. It was the time that we spent together that made it special. My family understood.

When I returned to school that Monday, I had a lot of support from my friends. Yes, I had friends that I didn’t know were there. Amanda, Sammy, Brie, Lydia, and my best friend Miranda helped me through this. My friends understood.

The people that I thought would never understand finally did. They cried, smiled, laughed, and even coped with me. I had mistaken before….they did care about me.


Wednesday came and I walked into the psychologist office and she said, “What do you want to talk about?”

“I took a deep breath and began, “Life is life and that’s all u can expect it to be. We look forward to the good times but we dread the bad times. We cant change the past but we can better the future. We have memories we regret and memories we cherish. Life is life and that’s all we can except it to be. I wish I knew that two years ago...then maybe I wouldn’t have ended up the way I have.”