Diary of A Broken Girl [Chapter Three]

Chapter 3: February 11th

I was kind of too busy to write anything last week. I’ve been trying to bond with Rebecca, and I’ve been making sure that the nurses don’t see the cuts I’ve been painting on my skin.
If they see the new scars, they’ll freak because the point of me being here is to make sure that I don’t cut anymore. No matter how long that takes…
Rebecca spoke to me for the first time today. I’ve been kind of anticipating it all week. She said “hi” and we just kind of discussed why we’re here.
Apparently she’s schizophrenic. She hears and sees things and is basically uncontrollable. I’m wondering why the owner of this facility put her in with me. Aren’t they afraid that she’ll steal one of my razorblades or that I’ll flip at her for being unrestrained?
I guess not.
Since I’ve been here, I haven’t really been thinking of anything besides my parents. They haven’t really communicated with me for fifteen years, then they pack me up and ship me away just because I cut too deep and took a pill or two.
It’s not like it’s my first attempt. I’ve tried before and failed miserably. I’ve attempted it before, but stopped myself before cutting too deep.
I wonder if Rebecca has to keep one of these journals. Not yet, probably. The watchdogs are maybe afraid that she’ll tear them apart for forcing her to write about her emotions.
God, this wire-bound notebook is irritating me already. Did you read that, therapist?
So, apparently it’s time for some kind of therapy or something… this should be enjoyable. Yeah, right.

It's me again! This is getting to be some sort of routine-y habit-type thing. Ah, well. On to the review and general grammar stuff:

I was kind of too busy to write anything last week. I’ve been trying to bond with Rebecca, and I’ve been making sure that the nurses don’t see the cuts I’ve been painting on my skin.
If they see the new scars, they’ll freak because the point of me being here is to make sure that I don’t cut anymore. No matter how long that takes…
Rebecca spoke to me for the first time today. I’ve been kind of anticipating it all week. She said “hi” and we just kind of discussed why we’re here.
Apparently she’s schizophrenic. She hears and sees things and is basically uncontrollable. I’m wondering why the owner of this facility put her in with me. Aren’t they afraid that she’ll steal one of my razorblades or that I’ll flip at her for being unrestrained?
I guess not.haha. funny cynicism.
Since I’ve been here, I haven’t really been thinking of anything besides my parents. They haven’t really communicated I would suggest replacing "communicated" with "associated". Just an opinion. with me for fifteen years; then they pack me up and ship me away just because I cut too deep and took a pill or two.
It’s not like it’s my first attempt. I’ve tried before and failed miserably. I’ve attempted it before, but stopped myself before cutting too deep.
I wonder if Rebecca has to keep one of these journals. Not yet, probably. The watchdogs are maybe I suggest "probably". Again, just an opinion. afraid that she’ll tear them apart for forcing her to write about her emotions.
God, this wire-bound notebook is irritating me already. Did you read that, therapist? haha. this made me chuckle.
So, apparently it’s time for some kind of therapy or something… this should be enjoyable. Yeah, right. haha, again.

So I can really see you improving as a writer. I caught only ONE grammatical error (two if you count the random "maybe" but that was more like funky sentence structure.) Yay for you!!
As i read these, I am beginning to become more attached to the character (but I would like a name), and I'm actually starting to look forward to your next chapters. I think writing more per chapter would be a good idea to consider. The strikeouts are good. I like the sarcasm and cynicism. Please PM when you write more.
Keep Writing!
Toodles!
~emerley