March 15, 1998
Today I spent lying in bed, feeling sorry for myself. I imagined slitting my wrist and leaving a suicide note: “Steph and Zach, I hope you’re happy.” But then I decided against it, because I would never be able to purposefully slice my skin. It would hurt too much.
So I went down to the cold basement without a blanket, hoping that I would freeze to death. But there would be no scars so everyone would think it was an accident. And I didn’t want them to think it was an accident. I wanted them to know that I had killed myself because of Steph and Zach. [I think I can pretty safely say that no able-bodied young person has ever frozen to death in their own basement by accident.]
I went upstairs and lay down on my parents’ bed, contemplating another way to kill myself. [I didn’t write about it, but I remember my mom coming in at a few different points and trying to comfort me. I wish I hadn’t been so convinced that she would never understand.]
But then I saw a picture on my mom’s dresser of my Grandma and Grandpa, looking happy and in love. I thought about how my Grandma had died after living such a long, full, happy, successful life, and how if I killed myself now, I would be ending my life when it was still incomplete. So I picked up the phone and called Jenna.
“Now your bangs are curled, your lashes twirled, and still the world is cruel. Wipe off that angel face and go back to high school.” – some guy from Grease
[I can only speculate about the mental leap I made to the lyrics of “Beauty School Dropout” from Grease: was it the part about the world being cruel that resonated with me? Or did I just relate to every character with awesomely curled bangs?]
YOU ARE READING
The UnSlut Project
Non-FictionI was the 6th-grade "slut." And I kept a diary. So I decided to create The UnSlut Project in the hopes that my own diary entries could provide some perspective to girls who currently feel trapped and ashamed. I am publishing these entries one at a...
