Saving Grace

"Progress"

Chapter Eight

10/24

08:32

Today is Wednesday which is a weird day. Time seems to pass differently on Wednesdays and I think that it's because it's the middle of the week.

One time, when I was in first grade, my teacher explained the origin of Wednesday and how it means midweek. I'm not sure why I remember that and I hope I didn't waste saving a good memory on that.

I worry about things like that. What if my ability to remember useless facts is wasting the space I have for good memories like... I don't know. But maybe if I didn't have so any useless facts and memories, I would remember what a good memory is.

I think about wasted space sometimes. Like the air around me is wasted. It could and should be a part of something better. What, you ask, is better than a suicidal teenage blogger? The answer is simple; nearly everything.

I mean, there are exceptions. Like rapists, child molesters, child abusers, animal abusers, murderers, fans of incest...

Well, I'm babbling. Again. How do you people even deal with reading my blog? It isn't that interesting. I guess to make it more interesting I could discuss my life more in depth. But sometimes I forget things. Maybe I should just carry around a notebook at all times and just write down everything that happens as it happens.

But what if I'm too busy trying to remember the events that I don't enjoy it enough?

Maybe I'll just stick to what I'm doing. Because this blog isn't about entertaining you all. It's about making sure that I leave something behind.

10/25

01:05

Yesterday, I had an appointment with my therapist and I told her about my blog. Here's how our conversation went:

"Hi, Grace. How are you?"

"Well, Ms. Barnes, I don't want to bash my head in with a hammer. So I suppose that's good."

"Grace. Why would you want to bash your head in with a hammer?"

"Well, Ms. Barnes, I admit that I'm often suicidal. And bashing my head in with a hammer would certainly get me to be remembered. People would talk about the girl who killed herself with her grandfather's hammer. It's much more defining than swallowing pills, don't you think?"

"How often do you think about killing yourself, Grace?" She'd asked, not answering my question. Which was probably for the best since it was rhetorical.

"Well, it depends. If I'm feeling really low, sometimes I will think about killing myelf ten times before breakfast."

"I see," she said, writing something down before looking at me.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to," I assured her even though in my head I added "yet" to the end of that statement.

"Well, that's good," she replied. Her eyes were huge behind her glasses. For the first time, I decided to actually study her. I took in her straw-like blonde hair, her big blue eyes that were made even larger by her glasses and her small frame. She'd told me over the summer when I first started seeing her that she's a vegetarian. I wonder if all vegetarians are skinny.

"I started a blog," I said conversationally. This caught her attention and instead of focusing on the fact that I'd admitted to sometimes wanting to bash my head in, she focused on the fact that I was using social media like a normal person.

"Oh? And what's your blog about?" She asked. I smiled slightly. For a while I had boycotted all social media and this was me showing that I was making progress.

"Just life," I said with a shrug. I failed to tell her that I was blogging about my life because I wanted to leave a legacy for when I killed myself.

"That sounds wonderful, Grace!" She said. She seemed so happy. So thrilled that I was on the road to recovery.

I guess I was wearing one of my many masks...

10/25

21:15

I should be in bed. It's sad, I know. I'm almost an adult and I still have a bed time (yes. Even on Fridays). Not that I adhere to it... But you all know that. After all, I've been known to blog at all hours.

One person asked me when I sleep since I stay up til three. The truth is that I don't. Not really, anyway. I rely on caffeine to stay awake. Which, while unhealthy, works. How apples are supposed to wake you up better than coffee is beyond me. I need coffee like I used to need pain pills.

I guess we all are addicted to something. Some things are just better than others.

Well, I'm finally exhausted and I don't think coffee will be able to keep me awake anymore. So I'm going to sleep. I just hope I don't have nightmares.

10/26

13:11

Today is going by very slowly. I wish this weekend would be over because I like the routine that school gives me. Routines are structure and I need structure because once, I went like two days without eating because I just couldn't remember to.

It's kind of scary how bad I am at taking care of myself. I think it's part of my being suicidal. I just don't value my life enough to actually try. Which I suppose is kind of scary. But I'm no one important.

There exists a post that says that if the person died, the world would still turn and the seasons would still come and go and everything would continue on. And right now, I don't see the point of living.

It's not that I want to die. It's just that I don't want to live.