Chapter 2: February 8th
Nothing really worth writing has happened yet. I got a new roommate today, though. Her name is Rebecca and I don’t know why she’s here. No one’s explained that to me.
She’s pretty quiet so far. All she does is sit in her bed, muttering to herself. Something about apologizing to everyone that she’s hurt.
I can’t really say much about her now. It’s too early, I don’t know enough about her to write about her.
The nurse that dishes out meds checks my arms every morning to make sure that I don’t put a razor to my pretty skin.
A little to early for that nurse, don’t you think?
I haven’t heard from my parents in a week. No phone calls, no letters. I think that now that I’m here, they’re making sure that they keep out of touch with me as much as possible.
That’s just their way of dealing with it, I guess.
My parents were never very good with communication. When I was little, they would buy me whatever I wanted, just to shut me up.
They had no time to take care of a child. They were too busy with their own lives.
The cutting is a release for all this pent up emotion. Pent up emotion that I’ve been suppressing for quite a while.
I suppose this damn journal will help my therapist see the world through my eyes, but what do I get out of it?
Hopefully I’ll figure it out.
