I think that the concept of a "diary" is stupid. Why can't you just write your feelings in a normal fucking notebook? Nobody will second guess a plain notebook. But if you have something labeled as "diary" of course people will want to read it and know what awaits inside.
I often question a lot about myself, and my sins. I know every word in the bible, I've read the bible so many times. But I feel... I feel like the things I do aren't as bad as the things you do. You punish me for sins that the bible doesn't even clarify are sins.
I often wonder what it would feel like to die. I wonder what my last thoughts would be, I wonder if it would be peaceful. Part of me believes it would be peaceful, because when I inflict pain on myself, it is so very peaceful and calming. How could death not be peaceful? I would be freed from all my pain. I would be freed from him.
I never thought I would succumb to the desires to drink. But when I started getting tipsy at that party last night- I just kept drinking and drinking. I thought I could be better than him, but now I know I'm just like my father... The taste of the alcohol on my tongue was so calming. I don't remember anything from last night, but I know I felt the best I ever had in a long time.
Why did he look at me like that? I hate him, and I thought he hated me- But the look he gave me across the lunchroom... It awoke something deep inside of me that I thought I locked away forever. Why did you look at me that way?
You seem to be everywhere I look. Every party, every corner around the school, every bathroom, every classroom. Everywhere. I push you and I shove you away but you don't seem to get it. Why don't you get it...
Everything seems to keep getting worse and worse. I thought maybe it was starting to get better after I started to slowly talk to Sal. But it's not. Every night I ask God if this is how I'm supposed to go, and something deep inside me tells me yes. You make me feel like this infinite pain I have is a sin, but when I cry for your help you don't show me a reason to stop crying. You don't help me. You don't answer my prayers. You aren't here for me like you should be. Have you given up on me like everyone else?
You told me you liked me. What could I possibly respond to something like that? You're a boy, Sal. I'm a boy. Being gay is a sin. But it seems like everything else I've done my whole life has been a sin. Fuck it. If I shall die a sinner, why not add another sin to them all?
Sal you make me so happy. But... There are things that I fear make me happier. Things that drown out all the noise, all the pain, all the problems.
I never thought I would be so close but so far from victory. I keep climbing, crawling, running, dragging myself towards the light, but no matter what I do, you drag me back down to the very beginning. You remind me of everything that is wrong with me. You remind me that I am not worthy of love, I am not worthy of happiness. Why must you remind me? You hit me and bruise me and tear me apart everyday, so why must you make me miserable when I'm finally starting to get closer to the light? Why must you remind me of how much I hate myself every single time I see a glimpse of myself and see YOU staring back at me? You killed mother, why must you kill me, too?
The scars taunt me everyday. They remind me of who I am and that I am unfixable. Scars from him, scars from me. All of them remind me of who I am. His hurt, mine soothe. Soon my body will only be scars. I don't want to wait for that to happen. I don't want to wait until I'm unrecognizable.
I hurt him. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to shove you, I didn't mean to cause you pain. It just all happened so fast... You made me angry and I just- I turned into him. I tried so hard not to be like him but I don't think it's possible. I don't think I can fix who I am. You said you were okay but I'm not. You don't deserve me, I'll hurt you just like how he hurt mother and me. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry.
I don't know why I'm so angry. Why I'm so annoyed with everyone. I don't know why even Phillip gets on my nerves, my best friend. I don't know why Sal gets on my nerves. They're just trying to help. Why do I get so angry with them? I just want to hug them. But I can't. Instead, I get mad.
I'm getting so much worse. I know I am. I know it's bad. I know I need to talk. But I can't. I'm too scared. I'm too used to drowning in my own pain. I don't want to be a bother to you both. I don't want to make you sad to hear all that I go through. I don't know what else to do anymore.
Sal Fisher... If you ever find this notebook... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... I think I soon will do something I will regret, but it will be too late to do anything once it's happened. You made me happy, even if for a short amount of time. Tell Larry I'm sorry. Tell Phillip he was the best person I ever knew. Aside from you, of course. You seemed to see the light in the dark, and I wish I would've taken your hand so long ago. Because... Maybe if I did- Maybe I wouldn't have given up. I don't know if I'd ever of been capable of these words in person, so... I love you. I love you and I thank you for showing me what true love and care really means. In another lifetime maybe we would've gotten a happy ending. Maybe I would have a loving father and a mother that didn't give up the same way I am. Maybe I still would have Larry at my side. None of that matters now. Just know, none of this was your fault. It was mine. It was always mine.