The Diary of Jane

"Dear diary,
Dad grabbed me indecently again yesterday. I shouted at him, I think he was stoned. I hate him when he's stoned. I hate him when he isn't too. Fran's at her moms place and I'm feeling lonely.
I dreamt this weird dream tonight again. About a guy with long, black hair and a black dress.. with something on his back.. I guess it was wings. He saved me. He held my hand like he would never let me go and he rescued me and Fransesca from the world. Maybe he just killed us, but he did us a favor. A very good favor.
I'll call him Evil Angel. I don't know why. He has to have a name, cause he's in my thoughts almost all the time. He's not evil but... it fits him.
I wish I could sleep through life, with his arms wrapped around me, so I could be safe.
I'm off to school. //Jane"

When I got out of the apartment, I turned into an icecube immediatly, because of the cold air settling itself on my body. I didn't have much clothes. I had some black, trashy jeans and a t-shirt that was too big, hanging like a dress around my thighs.. The shoes I wore where pretty warm, they where huge boots that didn't look great, but it kept my feet warm.
I wrapped my arms around myself as I stood by the busstation, waiting for the bus to arrive.
I just wanted to cry, but I didn't. It wasn't worth it.
When I came to school I opened my locker, happy over the fact that it was a little warmer inside the schoolbuilding than outside.
I truely looked weird here. Everyone else had either brown or blonde hair, a nice pair of jeans and should be happy with their lives.
Except for my ugly clothing I had another burden; my hair. That was what I hated the most. People saw me as some black gothic ghostgirl because of it's blackness. And it was really long. Okay, it had a nice quality, but.. I didn't want to look like a ghost.
"Hey, Janie!"
Hello, shitface.
Rebeccas voice filled my head so I had to force myself to turn around and look straight into her innocent blues.
"Wow, aren't you freezing?", she asked by the look at my bare arms.
"No I'm fucking frying to death here" I bit back.
I didn't know why Rebecca always followed me around. I was really a bitch. My anger was flooding out on her and only her, she always took the worst hits of my temper. Maybe she just tried to be nice to me, but I hadn't fucking asked for someone to be nice to me, had I? I wish she'd get mad at me, just once, so we could have a real fight and she wouldn't mind my buisness anymore. I just wanted to be alone. I hated people, humans, animals, living creatures. There was no use for them. I didn't love anyone, except for Fran. But she wasn't people. People were always so happy about everything. I couldn't understand why. Our world was going to an end, everyone around us were starving and dying. But they didn't worry their pretty little heads over that, they just shrieked as soon as they saw someone they recognized and wasn't a geek and hugged around in the corridor of the school as if it was a lifetime since they saw eachother last time, when they just met one hour ago. Did they even know anything about missing someone?
I wanted to spit in their mouths, let them taste my dirty saliva. I really, really wanted it. But I put straines on myself and didn't let myself do it. I couldn't really. It was rude to do such a thing. And it was fucking disgusting. So what? I was disgusting, I thought. But I still didn't bring myself to it.
God, I really had to stop arguing with myself like that.
Tears formed in my eyes. No one really wanted to listen to me. I got sick of my own thoughts, they were all worthless anyways.
I went through the day like a ghost. Like the silent gothic ghostgirl they all knew about.
People liked to shove me into the walls in School. I hated them. "Emo" was the only inslut they had to waste their mouths with. I could come up with so many more. Maybe I should suggest some of them? I was sick of being called an emokid, they could just throw words like "fatty", "ugly-face" and "daughter of a jerk".. Those words would hurt so much more. But they where satisfied with simple "emo". It didn't fit me, that's why it didn't really bother me.
Now my mind was jabbing on and on again. I just wanted someone to shut me the fuck up. I needed to focus my thoughts on something else.
"Jane?" The teacher, ms Andersen, asked. "What's four times eleven?"
I'm in highschool for fucks sake. I knew that. Stupid fucking question.
But instead of telling ms Andersen the right answer I just shrugged. I didn't want a bitch like her who'd never felt real pain in her whole life hear my voice. Fucking whore. She probably was the most populair girl in highschool when she was in my age. She wasn't worthy my voice, she wasn't worthy of my spit in her mouth. Simple as that. Her face made me gag. She was too pretty. So perfect, so blonde and so blue-eyed... So yuck.
She looked into my eyes, only to reviel the hate behind them. So with that she asked some other student in my sucky class, who answered the question correctly. I could be a fucking good student. But I just didn't want to.

Lunch was the worst time of the day. Every teacher in school knew that I didn't eat lunch, but they would always fucking force me to go and eat. I couldn't afford it, and I didn't want it. But today seemed okay, 'cause none of the teachers had paid any attention to me on the whole day. So I guess no one would bother if I sneaked inside the bathroom and just hid myself for a while.
And so I did. I locked the door behind me and looked into the dirty mirror. Shit, I looked worse than I thought I would. I had black bags under my eyes and my hair was lank and looked like it hadn't been washed in forever, which it hadn't. I just wanted to cut the shit off. And with shit I didn't think about my hair. I meant my whole head. Just unlinking it from my body, with blood spluttering out of my neck, and leave the world behind. I wonder what people would say if they found me here, headless? I laughed bitterly of the thought of some poor student finding me, getting scarred for life, and eventually kill him/herself.
Before I was twelve I used to be a normal, happy kid. I even had friends, one of them being Rebecca, and I laughed and made jokes. I had changed. I didn't like what I had been, or what I had become. I didn't like me, okay?

In english class my teacher started yabbing about being nice to eachother, about equality. He said that we should accept eachothers flaws, as well as our own. That our look on ourselves where the more important than anything else. If you didn't like yourself, it would be hard for others to like you. Well pretty fucking deep of you, Einstein. I didn't want anyone to like me.
The teacher told us to start discuss the subject with someone else. I sat alone and looked out the window. It was raining. The sky was a grey mess and the raindrops fell on the oh, so grey ground. Everything seemed to be grey. That colour was so fucking depressing. If it even was a color. I mean, the only feeling you got out of it was boredom and numbness. I shut my eyes. I was a grey cloud. Or worse, a black cloud. Tears where burning behind my eyelocks but I didn't let them out. That was the only thing I liked about the world; it never held in that it was raging in anger, then it would be a storm and the lightening would strike into a tree and everything would just burn. And if it was sad it would be raining(crying) and grey, like now. If it was happy the sky would be cleared out of clouds and the sun would shine down upon it's creatures. The weather really had a great affect on everyone. When it rained it wasn't any big things happening, people seemed to get lost in their thoughts and not make that much sound. Or well, some made a pretty big fucking sound in this school. The so called "punks" that always where angry and had to break the fun for everyone. I sighed. Couldn't people just calm the fuck down? Okay, I wasn't that calm on the inside but... Keep your fucking emotions to yourself for once!

When the schoolday ended I took off the from School as quickly as possible, but today it wasn't possible to get out as fast as I wanted. Today was "let's have fun bully the ghostgirl"-day.
"Hey, emokiiid!" someone yelled but I didn't answer.
I started skipping through School and the exit seemed to be further away than ever.
"Emoo! Go cut yourself!"
I sighed. Couldn't they be more creative than that? Suddenly I heard a bump and a lot of mock laughing. I still didn't turn around to face them. They would just see the tears in my eyes and laugh even harder. I did not have emotions. Funny though. I was 'the emo' without the emotions.
Then someones body smashed against my back, making me lose balance and hit the ground harshly. I was about to get up and run away, but someones bodyweight kept me down on the floor.
"Mr and mrs emo!" they sang out of key.
I shook the other person away from me.
"Get the fuck off of me!" I screamed, but my voice cracked and a lump formed in my throat, forcing its way up to make me start sobbing.
Then I met the other ones eyes. The guy who'd laid on top of me.
His eyes where full of more rage and hatred that I'd ever seen in anyone elses eyes before, not even the angry punks could look so fucking hatefull. His black, short hair was messy and it looked like he had cut it himself. He had trashed, grey pants and a plain black hoodie on, and he stood up in front of me with a face that made me think that he wanted to beat me up.
He was beautiful. I had never seen anyone with so many emotions expressed in their eyes at the same time before. Well, I hadn't seen him before. Maybe he was new?
The rage in his eyes was comforting in a way that I once had felt... But I couldn't figure out when or where I had felt as comforted before.
I didn't realise that I just sat on the floor staring upon him like he was some kind off saint before he said the word;
"What?"
I couldn't form a single word. I just shook my head, jumped up on my feet and dusted myself off.
"Sorry for hitting you to the ground like that before, I..." He scrathed the back of his head nervously. "They pushed me into you."
"It's okay", I mumbled and turned away.
Yeah, he was comforting me but hell, he scared the living shit out of me at the same time.
Well at home I could hear my father slurr inside the living room. Probably he was pissed of at some show on TV and yelled angrily at it, with a beerbottle in his hand while the other one scratched his ass.
"Jane?" He breathed from there.
I frowned. He called after me. What did he want me to do now? The nervousness creeped down to the pit of my stomach and swirled it's way around my body, making me feel lightheaded.
I gone into the livingroom where he looked exactly like I thought, laying on the old couch. I hadn't sat down on it for years. I didn't even want to know what he had done with some skanky whores on it.
"How was School?" he slurred.
"Ok", I answered.
It hadn't been okay. And he was drunk. He was always so fake fatherlike when he was drunk.
"D-don't give me that fucking attitude, young lady!"
He sat up and pointed his weak indexfinger at me. I didn't even want to look at him, he was scaring me so much.
"Sorry", I mumbled.
It was hard even to choke out the word. I didn't want to get in trouble, I just wanted him to leave me alone. I didn't need him to talk to me.
"Please, honey", he said. "Sit down next to me."
He looked like he was sobering up, but then he took another gulp of the beer.
I did as he wanted and sat down. I tried to get the bad mental images of him and his fuckfriends out of my mind, but it was hard. I had heard him and them moan like whores too many nights to not have the images in my head.
Dad took his hand down on my thigh. I bit my tongue. He wasn't breaking the law. He wasn't. He was just touching my thigh. This was normal.
He started rubbing his hand up and down on it. He closed his eyes.
"Oh, Janie", he mumbled.
"Yeah?" I asked, trying to get rid of the sexual tension in the air that I knew that at least he felt.
He moved closer to me now and his hand sneaked its way up under my shirt, touching my left breast.
The touch of his hand cupping my breast was too much. A tear now ran down my cheeks, and then I couldn't stop all the tears that came all at once. How the fuck could he touch his daughter like this?
"Don't be a wussy, Jane", he mumbled. "It'll be over in a second.."
I just stared at him now. Was he trying to..? He unzipped my pants, but then I just stood up and ran outside the door. I ran and ran and ran. It wasn't the first time this had happened, but I just couldn't stop running.

Can't someone do me a favor and end this whole "me being alive"-thing?