Wake Up

14th June 2008

Dear Diary,

Damn that’s such a cliché way of starting a diary entry but what else would you put? “hey diary!” – no, sounds like I’m talking to a book which is just weird. Is it weird? I guess I kind of am at the moment, I mean, these entries aren’t really written for anybody, just, to get stuff off my chest I guess. To make me feel better. A coping technique, if I want to use the official term used by that god awful therapist.

Well, anyway, here it goes. I don’t know really where to start, I guess I’m just writing things down as they come to mind. Maybe I should start with what I know and then move on to what I think I know and then what I think I don’t know and finally what I know I don’t know.

I know my name is Andy. I know I’m 19. I know my birthday is 3rd June 1989. I also know that at this moment in time, I am sitting in my room with the music turned up so loud that I can’t hear the absolute shit show going on downstairs between my parents. I guess the most pressing thing I know is that I have been diagnosed as depressed with anxiety. Go me…what an accomplishment.

How do I feel about that? That’s what the therapist kept asking me. How do I feel about that? I don’t fucking know do I, that’s why I’ve been referred to a therapist. Duh. Ugh. Okay, anyway.

I think I feel okay about it, in all seriousness. I mean, yeah, it sucks but I guess it’s finally good to know that there’s a reason why I’m so fucked up right? Not like I have an excuse or anything, just, now I know why I feel the way I feel.

I don’t know how I feel about taking the medicine though. It’s…different. I’ve never had to take medicine for anything, and it just doesn’t feel natural. I don’t know what to think about them. It’s early days yet, so we will see what is going to happen.

Well, I don’t really have much more to say right now. I don’t know what’ll happen over the next few months. Apparently I’ll get good days and bad days, right now, I really hope I don’t get bad days. I’ve had too many of them already. They are such a dark place to be, you never think you’ll ever get out of it. You do, though, I mean, eventually, but it’s awful. Really awful.

No more. Please.

Andy x

21st June 2008

Dear Diary,

It’s been an interesting week to say the least. I finally got around to putting in my university application. So, that’s done. I’ve been feeling super tired and just really struggling to do anything that I like. Too tired to write music. Too tired to write songs. Too tired to play games, eat, drink, sometimes even too tired to sleep. I kid you not, it’s fucking ridiculous. Sometimes I can just lie there for like, four hours just staring at the wall, too tired to move but unable to go to sleep. It’s almost normal now that I’ve seen 4am flick onto my clock on my bedside table. Heard the birds wake up before I’ve even gone to sleep. Seen the light of day before the darkness of unconsciousness.

Jesus I sound so fucking emo. Although I may use that line in a song. That’s pretty cool. Anyway, my week. Tired, tired, tired. I haven’t really spoken to anyone outside of this house. I mean, I don’t think I have anyone to talk to outside of this house anymore. I’ve…ruined, whatever friendships I had. They didn’t understand why I never wanted to go out, or do anything, I became boring to them. I wasn’t boring. I was just sad as hell.

I mean, I am sorry that I distanced myself from them, and I guess the only person who is suffering now is me. The only people I talk to now are my Mam, who’s got a lovely black eye by the way, fucking bastard. One of these days I will become strong enough to just fuck him up. I don’t really talk to that son of a bitch, we more just accept each other’s existence in this house and try to avoid each other as much as possible.

Then there’s Jamie. Or Jamey. Or Jaimie. Whichever way she’s bloody spelling her damn name now. My sister. 14. Nothing but a twat really. The only words we say to each other are insults so I guess just my Mam really.

I have thought about reaching out to my best friend again. Matt. I’m sure he will understand if I just explain, maybe. We’ll see.

So what else has happened. Nothing really. Apart from working. That sucks too. That’s the reason I have the damn depression and anxiety in the first place. I was fine before I started working in that damn shop. All those people just, oh God, so stupid, so demanding. “This copier won’t work.” “The colour on this isn’t right.” “Can I have 1000 business cards made in an hour yeah?” “That’s too much money why is it so expensive?!” Because it fucking is I don’t make up the damn prices. Ughhhhh. Anyway. I don’t want to think about that hell hole, besides, hopefully if I get into uni I will only have to work part time which means less time in hell.

Silver linings. Gotta find the silver lining. If there ever is one. I need sleep. Sleep. Sleep will make me feel better. I think.

Andy x

22nd June 2008

Dear Diary

Fuck my dad. I hope he dies. No, I don’t care that it sounds harsh, I don’t care what bad energy or whatever I’m putting out into the universe, I honest to god wish that alcoholic piece of shit would die a most horrible death. Or maybe me. Maybe I could die a horrible death. Either way I’d be rid of that fucker!

23rd June 2008

Dear Diary

Wow I was intense last night. I’ve calmed a bit now. I fell asleep shortly after writing that and, well, I’m alright now. I mean, yeah my eye is sore but that’s what happens when an idiot punches you because they picked a fight they thought they could win but couldn’t because they were totally in the wrong. Anyway, I don’t wanna think about that no more. It sucks. Work today, that sucks even more. I’m just so tired too. How long would I have to put up with this? I have another appointment with my therapist tomorrow. Why the hell does life freaking suck so bad.

Andy x

25th June 2008

Bad day. Bad days. So bad days. Please let me die…

26th June 2008

I’m still alive. Not sure anyone would care at this point, but unfortunately I didn’t either pass away in my sleep or disappear off the face of the earth. I’m still breathing and today is just another day in hell, then work hell, then just more hell. Let’s get this over with.

Andy x

30th June 2008

Dear Diary

They say there is always a light at the end of the tunnel but until I woke up today I couldn’t see it. There was just darkness but now, now, I’m feeling calmer, I feel much more in control and I’m feeling…okay. I’ve cried out everything I think I needed to cry out, and I’m feeling just a little bit numb. Still tired of course. Maybe the medicine is finally kicking in and doing what it’s supposed to do. They said it was supposed to help me balance my emotions. Well, the past few days haven’t shown that but they did say it would take a week or so to kick in properly.

So why did I become a living embodiment of the emo culture? My therapy session was, oh I dunno, what’s the best way to put it? I guess I can only describe it as the most difficult conversation I have ever had to have in the history of forever. She wanted to talk about why I had a black eye to start with, and of course, that opened up the whole ‘dad’ situation, and the home life situation, and just the whole topic I really didn’t want to talk about but she was hell bent on going into it.

I cried. A lot. Which is of course shaming. It makes me feel like I don’t want to go back there, but I will, I mean, I have to. Not like I have a choice really. But that’s another story for another time when I have the energy. This is taking enough effort to write about but I need to get it down, my mind is restless.

I have found these diary entries help. It’s like, all the things swirling about in my brain stops when I put them down on paper. Makes me calmer. So I guess this suggestion by her was a good one, and I will admit that at least.

It was a hard session, and talking about how impossible my living situation is at the moment just made me so sad and frustrated more than anything because I desperately want it to change but there is no way that’s happening any time soon, and even if I did manage to get out of this house, how could I leave conscience free when I’d be leaving my Mam in the house with that monster?

I guess I can finally admit it. I need help, but…I question whether there is anyone out there who is willing to do so.

Andy x

**********

“What’re you reading?” I looked up from my lap, my neck creaking from the lack of movement for the last half an hour. Jack had come into my bedroom eating a bag of crisps, his hair falling in front of his eyes as he looked down from his tall frame. I uncrossed my legs and shifted over so he could sit next to me on my bed.

“It’s an old diary I found. It’s like, 12 years old but it makes for some really, I don’t want to say interesting but it is. A mixture of that and disturbing I guess.”

“Why?” he asked, crunching on more crisps.

“Because it’s written by someone who’s got depression and anxiety, and seems to be living with an abusive father, which is what I can gather so far.”

“Well, what’s disturbing about it, what kind of things have been written?” Jack wiped his hands on his skinny jeans and threw the wrapper in the bin by the door, knowing I’d freak if there were any mess in my room.

“I guess nothing I’ve read so far is disturbing in a horror movie fucked up disturbing kind of way but it’s just weird that this was written by a real person you know? Like, I’m reading about someone else’s life that actually happened.”

“I guess I can see where you’re coming from with that. Well, let’s hear some then?” He shifted so his legs were draped over my lap. I leaned back against the wall and laid the book open on his legs. His jeans were the exact shade of faded black as my own; we both had on our favourite skinnies and they had been through the wash so much that they weren’t really black any more.

I flicked through a few pages and found another long entry, and I began to read:

“1st July 2008

Dear Diary,

I’m feeling a little bit better than I was yesterday again, and I feel a little bit more energetic now as well. My eye is fading back to normal; it’s just a sick yellowy colour now as opposed to black blue and any other shade of purple you can think of. Even Jaimey (this is how she’s spelling it now to be cool), has been quieter than normal and has thrown less insults at me than usual. Usually I get the usual ‘emo’, ‘i’, ‘twat’, the usual and worse if she’s in a particularly bad mood but she’s kept her distance and so has dickhead. Maybe that’s why I am also feeling better, because I’ve been left alone.

My Mam is her usual self which is still painful to watch; sheepish, shy, refuses to make eye contact. Nothing like the Mam I remember when I was little. Before she met dad. Yeah, biologically not dad, but he’s been with Mam since I was like, 7 or 8, and he insisted on being called dad which I thought was weird but it’s normal now.

Anyway. As the positive vibes are pumping through my body right now, let’s take a moment to write a list of things that I want to do over the next few months:

Apply for student loans (I got in, I forgot to mention. I found out when I was feeling like shit so it didn’t seem important at the time. Obviously it is)

Write some songs, lyrics, music, anything.

It’s summer, go out for more walks or something

Get back in touch with Matt, maybe. No, definitely.

Sort out part time hours at work.

Okay, that’s a good start. Dare I say that things are looking up?

Andy x”

“Well that one sounds rather positive.” Jack shrugged his shoulders and leaned his head against the headboard. I flicked through a few pages and found one page that had just four words on it. I held the book up to Jack and his eyebrows shot so far up his face that they almost disappeared into his hairline. I actually think one did.

“Only some of the entries are positive, see what I mean?” The page I had showed him was from 14th July 2008, scrawled handwriting in thick black pen, scribbled to make the letters thicker:

SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME…

“Where did you even get this from?” Jack gestured for me to hand the book to him. I did so, and he flipped through the pages quickly, front to back. It was a black leather book, the pages creased and stiff from entry after entry and various things that had been stuck in them. I hadn’t looked at these yet but saw some newspaper clippings as Jack flicked through.

“I found it in the box of old books I bought from that car boot sale the other day. It was in the bottom underneath the novels. There’s a few, actually. This one’s the oldest by the looks of it.”

“Creepy.” He handed me the book back and I looked at the cover that I had stared at for at least ten minutes without saying a word. On the black leather, white correction fluid had been used to write ‘Andy’s Diary: Keep out or prepare to be scared’. Stars had been painted on the thick spine and a face on the back with x’s for eyes and a stitched up mouth.

“Yeah…” I replied, distracted.

“Leila?” Jack nudged me out of my reverie.

“Sorry, what?”

He chuckled. “Are you gonna put that book down now or are you gonna start obsessing like I know you’re gonna do?”

I scoffed. “I’m not gonna obsess, what makes you think I’m gonna obsess I don’t obsess?” This time he actually laughed.

“La-la, we’ve been best friends for what, fifteen years? I’ve lived with you for five years. I know you better than you know yourself sometimes. Girl, you got that obsession face on.”

I chuckled, looking away. I was intrigued, of course I was, and I wanted to read on. If I took an interest in something I always got really deep into the subject, like a few years ago I became interested in butterflies (don’t ask why, I just did), and I learnt everything there was to learn about butterflies. I researched, I visited butterfly places, I became obsessed with them. Everything I could find out about them I did, and then, one day, the next obsession came and I never learnt another fact about butterflies. I could feel like this was going to be one of those obsessions.

“Well, you know what I’m like, besides, what harm can reading an old diary be? It’s just a book, right?”