Scrutinize

drie

If you can dream it, you can do it.  - Walt Disney

There are times in life where people wish they could have never said something, or done something, or thought something that ended up affecting their entire life. Sometimes, they're over little things, like eating a cupcake instead of an apple. Other times, it's much bigger than that, like saying something to somebody that truly hurt them.

All I have to say is, please think before you speak. One word you could say could hurt someone's life forever.

My best mate, or used to be best mate, Zane, had a hard time in school today. He was harassed about me, about my family, about his family. More than usual, actually.

People always used to ask me why I befriended him. I always told them that it was staring them right in the face, and they ignored it while I embraced it.

The conversation always ended there.

You see, Zane Wilkes was an only child, and a result of a too-young pregnancy. His father never was there, and his mother was there physically, but not mentally. She fell into a pit of depression, and Zane wore clothes that were too small and too raggedy to be accepted and popular. He was bullied in elementary, middle, and his freshman year in high school before I befriended him and gave his bullies a piece of my mind. I really hate bullies, for that reason, and for Jane being bullied.

Jane went back to school, and made a friend. He's new to school, from a different state, and he is a nice boy. If he hurts her in any way, I will haunt him until he dies a painful and cruel-

Sorry, that was slightly overboard, but you get the point.

Eleanor is alright. She was asked to a school dance by a boy earlier today, and smiled for the first real time since two weeks ago, right before my death. Same as before goes for him.

Mum got out of the house today. She went out with some friends, then went shopping by herself. She came home and sat in my old room afterwards, though. She didn't cry, but I'm positive it will take some time for her to get over this.

The police came to our house yesterday. They wanted to look more into the case of my death, and asked Mum, Jane, and El some questions. They also went through my bedroom, which I didn't like much, then left. They wondered where Pop was, and Mum told them he was in the army. That was true.

Pop had more ground to cover today, and talked to the army psychiatrist afterwards. He told the man everything, and the man scheduled regular sessions for him.

It'll be good for him. I think someone should schedule some for Mum, too.