Chapter 1
Soft autumn winds pushed around the trees, leaves fell to the soft ground, clouds covered the sun getting rid of any light that could have been. The graves in rows and rows covered the entire field, beautiful flowers set on graves by loved ones yet there was not one person there but me. Standing in the entrance of the graveyard always causes my heart to sink, it brings back the memories of the only love I’ve ever known.
I walk to the near back of the graveyard next to a perfectly placed cherry tree, there sits her grave, burning tears roll slowly down my face, alone I sit with a heavy hurting heart next to her grave. A singe rose, that’s all it takes. a single rose, each petal meaning a different word, a different compliment, a different love, the strongest love. Although I give the rose as my words, no words can amount to the love I feel. “I wish I could have saved you… I miss you, my lovely winter.” I wish these words didn’t have to be said, she could be here, with me…
1 year earlier, winter:
A senior already, where had all the time gone? Nearly 18 and I have no idea what to do with my life, or even if I want a life for that matter. If I can barely get through high school, how am I supposed to make it after high school? I don’t have a future like the other kids at my school, I can’t make it into college, ill be lucky if I graduate high school. Honestly, I don’t even know why I write these journal entries, they seem absolutely pointless to me but my therapist says its good for me and at this point I’m willing to do almost anything to feel better.
Sometimes I sit and think about the journal entries I’m supposed to write, they’re supposed to help me and sometimes they do but then at other ties it just destroys me writing about the memories still stuck in my head. I find myself blanking a lot, my head spins and spins until I don’t feel anything but I cry. I convince myself I’m alone and to be honest that’s not completely a lie, I have no one, nobody cares enough about me to be there for me, the truth is that people want you as a friend till they know you’re struggling. My brain must have developed wrong, maybe the trauma fucked me up, or maybe I was just born a messed up good for nothing failure. - winter
Bell rings, “shit its 3:30 already” I think to myself, I wasted a whole class period writing in my journal. “Winter please stay and talk to me for a minute.” Says my English teacher Mrs. Cole, I says nothing but I walk over to in silence holding my journal and keeping my head down, I already know what she’s about to say, I’ve heard it all before. “Mrs. McCabe, you’re using all your time in your classes unwisely. I’ve talked to all your teachers about it, I afraid you’re barely passing all your classes. Watching your progress, it seems that by the end of the year it may be worse, you could be failing. I can tall you’re unamused Mrs. McCabe, just please understand that if you don’t pass, you’re either going to have to repeat your senior year or you’re going to struggle to find a job. If there’s anything I can do to help you I’m always here to help, all you need to do is ask.” Mrs. Cole looks at me with a soft smile, that apologizes for her being messed up although it not being her fault. “Thank you, Mrs. Cole, I’ll ask for help if I need.” I say looking to the ground “of course.” Mrs. Cole says as I walk out of the classroom keeping my head down.
It hurts you know, the constant doubt, I knows I’m not the smartest of people (not even close in fact) but she’s not dumb, the problem is I don’t have the motivation to try and even if I did have the motivation I wouldn’t care enough to try. Walking through the halls when you’re a nobody feels both like everyone is watching you and that nobody cares to look at you, “if I keep my head down, I don’t have to realize which one it is.” I think to myself, I count my steps as I walk trying to ignore everyone and everything around. Though being alone absolutely sucks in the halls of a high school it’s still easier than trying to find someone to walk with you, or me to be more exact, people don’t like me and in my opinion that’s perfectly fine, it’s not people’s job to like me.
Home, a fucked-up passion pit of never-ending daily fights and nightly screams. She always makes sure to walk in quietly so her father doesn’t hear her, any interaction with him turns into screams and bruises, she has enough of those from him already. I don’t know what it is about being in my room alone, when I lay down in my bed thoughts just flood my head, maybe it’s because I know I’m alone. Blanking again, my mind feels chaotic but at the same time like absolutely nothing at all, I feel worthless, maybe because I am. I want to scream, I want to cry, I want to forget, I can’t or my father will hear. I’ve learned that lesson enough times to know emotions are for people who are too weak to hid them, do I believe that myself even? The answer is no I don’t, but if I don’t follow it then that makes me weak, and if I’m weak I get hurt, my only option is to feel numb, that’s the only safe option.
I can’t always feel nothing, I have to feel something, even if its pain. I can’t have knives, not because my parents care I’m suicidal (God forbid they care about me at all) but because they probably know that if they gave me a weapon, I wouldn’t be taking shit from them. Even though I don’t have knives I have a pencil sharpener, I take the pencil sharpener apart and grab the small sharp blade. I know cutting is absolutely stupid, but I feel something, I bleed. Blood drips slowly down my legs from the fresh cuts. I stand up to grab towel from the other side of my room, it hurts to put pressure on my leg full of new bleeding cuts, but unfortunately that was the goal.
If didn’t talk, if I didn’t say a single word for the rest of my life no one would notice, nor would anyone care if they did happen to notice. If I were to die right this second not one person would care, my funeral would be and empty no good waste of space just like me, I’d be lucky if there was even a funeral planned for me, not even my own family would show up. – winter
Most of the time when people sleep its peaceful, its calm, it’s a time for people to wind down and not think about the bad things in their life. For me sleep is usually hell, it’s the time where the memories and thoughts decide to slowly kill me by eating the good parts left of me away, sometimes I wake up screaming, sometimes crying, or both. my mind doesn’t give rest, it will be chaos always and forever, or at least that’s what I think, I’ll continue to think that until proven wrong.
Not everyone realizes what’s going on in someone’s mind, they see a quiet person and judge them based off that. I haven’t always been a sad quiet person, as hard as that is to believe, sadly memories can haunt and hurt you years and years after, I didn’t truly realize what was going on until after she had taken it for years and years, the sad thing about that is after taking too long to realize, it was too late for people to believe. Even cops told me to stop lying, to stop being dramatic. Let me tell you, when I got told as a kid, I was lying about happened to me, it fucked me up, it hurt me in ways that I can’t put into words, even if it’s not the worst thing that could happen to someone.
To be good enough would be a tressure, the question I ask myself every day is will I ever be good enough? I of course don’t have the answer, although I wish I did. I don’t know why I still hold on at this point, I don’t have anyone to hold on for, so is it even worth it anymore? I don’t think so, I truly don’t. worthless, that’s what I am to my father, my mother, my teachers, my classmates, everyone. The funny thing is I still feel this hope of being loved one day, its bullshit, false hope, I know. I wish I could forget; I want my childhood back; I want what my father stole from me. -winter
Weed, that helps sometimes, helps me actually relax for a bit, I wish I could feel that way every second, it would certainly be nice, to not worry all the time, to feel calm. I smoke a bit before I go on my way to school, I find it easier to tolerate the bullshit and people when I’m high, definitely makes it more fun.
Before high school it seemed that everybody kind of just did whatever and hung out with whoever they wanted, now it seems as if everyone is divided into groups. I know that sounds like some stupid cheesy high school movie but the thing is, that’s what actually happens, people divide into groups of other people like themselves. As much as this fact does make sense, what’s left is people like me and I know there’s other people in this school like me, the only problem is that I don’t know who they are and even if I did, I probably wouldn’t be confident enough to talk to them.
Second semester, got to love splitting the year into two parts just so halfway through the year you have to find new classes and get confused all over again, fun. This semester my first period class is sculpture, I don’t even remember signing up for that class, I mean what do you even do? Build a bunch of random crap you’re eventually going to throw away, because that sounds so great. At least first day of new semester is getting to know the teacher and get a basic idea of what we do. The room has planets hanging from the ceiling, paintings and drawings on the walls, wire people in different poses, the room actually looked pretty cool, maybe this class wouldn’t be horrible. “Ok everyone, pick a place to sit and ill introduce myself. “say’s the teacher in the standing in the front room, she has dark brown hair, blue eyes, a small older woman with glasses. I sit in the back right corner of the room and look down trying to stay in my head. “Ok everyone, my name is Maren but you can all call me Mrs. M. So, I need to take roll so I would appreciate it is you could all keep your mouths shut for about five minutes then you all can socialize for class and get to know each other, thank you.” she says calmly yet stern, I like her. Mrs. M goes through names and I zone out waiting for my name to be called, until “summer miller.” Calls the teacher, then I see her. Two seats ahead of me sits a girl with long reddish-brown hair with two streaks of blonde, dark green eyes that make you want to look into them forever, she smiles and I feel my heart beat just a bit faster, she has these perfectly placed freckles, and this laugh that makes you just instantly smile, and…. “Winter mccabe” calls out Mrs. M “uh, here.” I say snapping out of my thoughts. Winter and summer I think, we’d be perfect, she’s going to be mine, all mine
