Thursday, October 4th, 2011.

 When someone asks, “How are you?'' I'll say “I'm fine” and smile, but not enough to show my teeth because I don't want people to think I'm happy my parents died. Nevertheless, I will smile, I will smile through the pain. When they ask if I’m okay or how I’m feeling, “Fine”,  I will reply, “I’m fine,” but I know I’m not. I won't say I'm good because good means I'm fully recovered and happy. And I'm not. My parents car drove off the side of a bridge after driving me to my friends house. They both drowned and the next morning two men fishing thought they caught a massive fish on their line but when they pulled it up it actually ended up being my moms dead body. I've been overwhelmed with guilt ever since but I've learned to shove it all down and play pretend that I'm fine.

I close my journal and go downstairs to find my 23 year old cousin, Rebekah, waiting for me. She has a cup of coffee in her hand, as usual. Her makeup is done, but she's still in sweats. She's stressed. I know she is. She fills her cheeks up with air and blows it all out. “I'm sorry,” she says “I have done nothing.” I tell her it's ok.  She asks, “Do you need a ride, lunch, anything?” “No, I'm good. Sarah is picking me up” I reply. “Okay have a good day at school.” “Bye Bex'' I replied. My brother Spencer comes down from upstairs. He looks disoriented, like he had a long night and no sleep. Since my mom and dad died I’ve learned to ignore his new behavior. I hear a car honking outside. I look out the window and see Sarah in her Honda, I grab my bag and open the front door to leave. I start to close it and inside I see Rebekah hassling Spencer about not being ready but I ignore it, like I always do.  Rebekah was too young when my parents died but somehow she quit everything, but somehow took over raising two teenagers. She didn't ask for it, I know that but I'm forever grateful. 

I start walking down the sidewalk and Sarah screams out her car window, “Who’s ready for the first day of school!!” I smile all the way down the sidewalk and open the car door.  We both laugh. Sarah is the kind of friend who when we're just simply texting, it's like I can physically feel my heart grow.  That's how much love I have for her. No one is able to make me laugh more than her. I put my seatbelt on and she started driving. “We’re in our  junior year, isn't that crazy!” she says. “It's crazy,” I said sarcastically back to her. “Are you re-joining the cheer team this year?" she says. “I don't know yet.”

After my parents died, I lost interest in everything.  I gave up, and I quit. Absolutely nothing was the same. I quit cheer, work, broke up with my boyfriend, distanced myself from friends.  I quit it all. I lost passion and interest and no I'm not depressed, I just can't imagine cheering and not seeing my mom in the audience at my competitions. I can't imagine having my boyfriend who I met because my mom was best friends with his mom.  And my aunt, being young and hadn't done half of the things I did when she was my age, she didn't care, she had just lost her sister and I don't blame her.  She was dealing with her own grief added on with two kids' grief. We pull up to school, park and get out. All the teachers waiting by the door are staring at me. I walk in with my head down. 

Sarah and I start walking to class together, stopping at her locker and my old friend Jenny comes up to me. She gives me a hug that almost suffocates me. She looks me right in the eyes and says “Are you ok, how are you?” Before I can reply she turns to Sarah and asks “Is she ok?” I'm fine, I reply back and give the perfect smile. “Aw that's great honey.” Then she spots someone who takes her attention. “I see someone I have to say hi to but it was so good seeing you guys, bye.” She walks away and I look right at Sarah giving her an annoyed look. We both laugh and turn away. Sarah is still getting her books out of her locker and then my eyes plant right on him. I see my ex-boyfriend, Sebastion. I smile at him and he turns away. He gives me nothing. I broke up with him when I was in a bad place but he cuts me no slack. I look at Sarah and shrug my shoulders. She looks at him then back at me, “he's still hurt just don't worry about it.” Throughout the day, girls who used to hate me are now smiling at me. It's all fake. I know it's all fake and I hate it. By last period I was over the day, I don't know if I have it in me to put up with this for a whole year. When I got home from school, I went up to my room and opened my journal. I look through my writings from the past couple weeks and there's nothing in there but a couple sentences. But tonight I felt full. Full of thoughts and emotions. I wrote for a whole hour just about how I felt after today. And what I can conclude after that hour of writing is I have no idea if things will get any better but if i want them to, I have to try.  

Monday, October 17th, 2 weeks later.

After school, I walk through the football field and next to the bleachers I spot a group of girls. Some are doing cartwheels, others are in a pyramid holding each other up.  I see Sarah and she immediately stands up and we run towards each other. We embrace each other in a hug and she yells, “You're here” and she makes a smile that fills up her face. My coach then announces our first competition of the season is in four weeks and it’s mandatory.  Coach then welcomes me back to the team.  All the other girls clap and smile at me. It feels good to be back.

Wednesday, November 24th, 3 weeks later.

I rip up my journal. I don't know why I did this, but I do. Small tears of fire run down my face. Yet I felt relieved to let all my feelings go. I’m tired of feeling sad. No one treats me the same anymore and I hate them for it. Even Sarah and Rebekah treat me like a broken doll from time to time. I realized I would rather be alone than with any of them. I'm losing my patience with the world waiting for things to go back to being normal.

Sunday, December 3rd, 1 week later. 

It's the day of the competition.  All morning we've been warming up and getting ready. It's a whirlwind of hair and makeup. Someone on the microphone calls out our number and we run out onto the mat doing cartwheels and flips. We’re a minute into the routine and we lift Jenny up to the top of the pyramid and suddenly, I look into the audience and my heart drops into my stomach. I see her. I see my mom. She's not cheering for me, she's just standing there, waiting for me to do something. I take two steps back and remove my arms from the pyramid that were so delicately holding up, causing Jenny to lose her balance and fall back on the mat, landing head first. I don't think I wanted to hurt Jenny. I just wanted people to stop thinking of me as a frail doll that would break if I was looked at the wrong way. I thought it would prove to everyone how free and careless I was and that I wasn't innocent. 

But here I am a year later, still journaling, laying in my bed at the Hybrid Recovery Center for the mentally unstable. I know I saw my mom whether she was real or not. I'd like to think the overwhelming feeling of guilt put me here, but maybe I am just crazy.