Diary of a Psycho - Nightmares of Injustice 7/06/11 | Teen Ink

Diary of a Psycho - Nightmares of Injustice 7/06/11

August 21, 2011
By Anonymous_Me DIAMOND, Marble Hill, Missouri
Anonymous_Me DIAMOND, Marble Hill, Missouri
54 articles 0 photos 14 comments

Favorite Quote:
&quot;Life is but a walking shadow.&quot;<br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> ~Shakespeare (Macbeth)


She's catching on quick.
My mom keeps asking why I'm wearing long sleeves all the time.
"I dunno. I guess I just like long sleeves," I said, and pulled up my sleeve. I pulled up my bracelet at the same time so she wouldn't notice.
"Are you hiding something? Did you carve some boy's name into your arm like Alisa did to her leg?" She went from one question to the other without pausing or taking a breath.
"No!" I quickly denied.
Perhaps too quickly.
She sighed. "If I don't see those arms in the next few days, I'm checking. Understand?"
"Yeah." We pulled up at the school, and I practically jumped out of the car, waving and shouting, "Bye! See you later!"
"Hurry!" Mom shouted back. "You're going to be late!"
"What does it look like I'm doing?!" I shouted over my shoulder, then burst through the shiny double doors, each with a cardinal on the window.
I wasn't hurrying because I was going to be late - I still had five more minutes before the bell rang. I was running because the only thing that allowed me to tell her I didn't carve some guy's name into my arm was this: It wasn't a guy's name.
It was a girl's.
God, I hope she never finds that out.
The scabs are healed to the point where I can take them off with a razor. I did that yesterday, and there's still puffy red marks below it. The 'A' is the most noticeable; I touched it up by cutting it again and spraying on a little more hairspray recently.

Why did I do that?
Because of what Airianna did yesterday.
During recess, it was REALLY hot out. And I'm out here, sitting out in the sun that's burning me to a crisp because I've got a black, long sleeved shirt on. I was only out there to try to talk to my friends - if they didn't ignore me, that is.
"Why are you always wearing long sleeves?" Alisa asked.
"Uhhh..."
"I'm going to laugh if you get heatstroke," she joked.
"Nah, I won't," I said.
I couldn't tell Alisa about this. She freaked out when her older sister, Courtney, told her she was bisexual. So, if I were to tell her about me cutting myself, what would she think about that? The only cuts left form the word 'AMY', and I think she's going to guess that I really like this Amy person.
On the other hand, when Airianna told Alisa she cuts herself, Alisa just said, "Okay..."
And she was fine with it.
Even though Airianna stopped doing that a long time ago, I still wonder if she does it once in a while, on her leg or something.

About five minutes later, Airianna came looking for me. I was sitting on top of the green monkey bars, talking to Amber and doing flips.
"Kriiii-stennnn!!!" she called.
"What?" I asked.
"Come with me." Airianna pulled me off the bars and dragged me over to Alisa. "She'll be right back!" she told Amber.
"Why are you dragging me to Alisa?" I asked, somewhat afraid of what was going to happen.
"Because you have something you want to show her," she responded.
I knew right away what that something was, and I did NOT want to share it with her.
I tried to tug myself free, and when she wouldn't let go, I started walking back with her trying to pull me to Alisa still. We didn't go anywhere.

Alisa had to come over to us.
"Pull up her sleeve!" Airianna told her.
"Which one?" she asked.
"Her right sleeve!"
"NO!" I shouted. Well, I said it as loud as I could without drawing attention.

Alisa rolled up my right sleeve.

She traced the letters with her finger, examining my cuts. Then, she turned her head to the side to see if it was supposed to be a word or something else.
"Amy," she said softly.
She rolled up the sleeve and glanced at my panic-stricken expression.
"You did NOT just show her that," I growled at Airianna.
"Uhhh..."
"Sh**," I hissed at the ground, and kicked up rocks with my feet.
I turned to run, and just as I kicked my right foot back as hard as I could to get a fast start, Alisa grabbed my shoulder. Airianna grabbed my other shoulder a few seconds later, the guilt on her face plain as day.

"Where do you think you're going?" Alisa asked.
"Somewhere where people don't freak out when they suddenly find out that their friend cuts herself, and just so happens to be a lesbian," I spat at the rocks that had scuffed the white toe of my black Converse shoes.
"Who said anyone was freaking out?" Alisa asked.
I shook my head angrily and tried to storm off, but she grabbed my shoulder again and made me sit down on the Eagle's Nest with her.
"I think you're the one freaking out," she said.
She had a point there.

Even though I knew she was right, I kept glaring at the ground, my head lowered so my hair would fall around my face and keep it hidden.
"Listen," Alisa began, and Airianna sat down and listened with great interest.
"I need to ask you a question." She turned to face me and put her hand on my shoulder.
"What?" I asked, my voice flat.
"How long did it take you to accept yourself? To actually be able to call yourself a lesbian without wanting to choke on the word, to be able to think like that without it feeling wrong. Ideas come to mind, some of them are about girls and you just know those certain ideas are wrong, that you're not supposed to think that way.
"How long did it take?" Alisa asked again.

I thought for a moment. Almost my whole life I had been obsessing over Zach. For only three years did I actually like him... He was just something I'd always wanted to obtain, and when those feeling died and I started thinking about girls in a weird way, I obsessed even more. I wrote down what he was wearing for a few days!
I knew that I didn't want him anymore, yet I continued to make myself look like an idiot by making stupid displays of affection. A box of chocolates in his locker... Asking him to the dance... Poems in his locker...
And so on and so forth.
But why?
Because I knew that thinking about girls like that shouldn't feel right... It should feel wrong.
Right?
The only thing that changed my mind was when I had a bisexual friend on the internet who was in a steady relationship with another girl.
Thank you, Akasuna.
Then I fell for the lead singer of my favorite band, Evanescence.
Hello, Amy... =3

Anyways.

"Almost my entire life," I responded. "I only recently let myself think it was right to feel that way.
"Remember when I stalked Zach and I started writing down his clothes for a few days?" I asked.
Airianna and Alisa nodded.
"Well, it was about the same time as that. I started obsessing more because I wanted to have something right. Plus, I had wanted him for a few years by then, so it just felt natural to do that."
I sighed. This was... awkward.
"Why did you do this, though?" Airianna asked.
"Remember how I was complaining because my parents banned me from ever getting on DeviantART again?"
"Yeah..." they said in unison.
"Well, that was because of my 'freak friend'. She cut herself, had suicidal tendencies, and was bisexual. She changed my mind. She let me know it was okay to feel that way, you could still have friends and a good life. She had tons of friends, online or in real life. It so happened that all her real life friends were pervs." I looked at them.
"What?" they asked, in unison again.
"You can't deny it." I said.
"Anyways, then I had a weird dream. This is when I still had my iTouch, okay? It was very...graphic. I typed it up on my iTouch and added even more detail, which was not necessary. I turned it into a story, one that I'm still writing. Just not on my iTouch. It was so graphic that if it was a book, Mom would NEVER let me read it. It could've been a script for a porn movie! Except it wasn't," I said quickly when Alisa and Airianna gave me a weird look that said, "Wow" and "Ew" at the same time.
"So, that's why I don't have my iTouch anymore. Dad, of all people to find that story, DAD found it, read it, and told me to tone down my writing. And since I couldn't type it on my iTouch anymore, I've got an old journal that I write it in now with a bunch of old and stupid poetry in the front. He specifically told me to stop writing that story." I looked at the red marks on my wrist again.

"So, why are you still writing this story?" Airianna asked.
"Because..." I hesitated.
"Because" Alisa prompted.
"It's the only way for me to ever be with Amy. Ever." I choked up and couldn't say anything else. I couldn't believe that there were people actually willing to listen to me and my weird, strange ways of thinking. My sick mind that loves to fantasize, my many poems, and my sometimes urgent need to kill myself all of a sudden.
That was a weird day.
But wow, this was awkward...

A tear ran down my face. I still had my hair blocking their view of my face, but they saw my body shake and I sniffled. The tear landed on my khakis, and when Airianna saw it, she hugged my neck. We weren't allowed to hug at school, and this could count as wrestling if they caught us.
There's always loopholes in the rules. =)
Alisa went on my other side and "hugged" me.
I smiled, and to me, the only thing that mattered was that I had friends who would still talk to me after they knew... well, me.
The real me.

"Holding my last breath, safe inside myself are all my thoughts of you - sweet raptured light, it ends here tonight." "My Last Breath" by Evanescence

Oh, Amy, you would be so lucky.

Hmmm...
Should I?

Nah.

---Kristen


The author's comments:
Wow. I never realized how deep my opinions went until I tried to write a journal series (like the Princess Diaries) and found out my opinions really do affect my writing.
Hmmm...
I really hope that people who are struggling with feelings like this will find comfort in the thought, "It's okay to feel that way, It's perfectly natural. And anyone who says it's not isn't worth talking to."
Really, just ignore them.
My friends always said, "At least we get more girls than you do!" whenever one of the guys called them a lesbian. I think that's a good tactic. Let them think what they want, who cares?

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