Sincerely, Poppy
2/8/2013
Dear Logan,
I told my therapist about writing you letters and sending them to you, thinking she'd be proud of me. Guess what? She never meant for me to send them out. Another fucking disappointment. I like the idea of sending them though even if you don't read them because these letters are heavy and I'm tired of things weighing me down. If I kept them to myself or just threw them away I feel like I wouldn't feel better. Fuck my therapist was right. I hope you don't mind me sending them still. Again if you don't want me to just say something.
A girl from group therapy had to go to the hospital today. She tried to kill herself last night. She tried to use the bed sheet as a noose. Want to know how they found her? I did. She was my roommate. I woke up to a chair scraping against the floor and gasping and I saw her hanging there. I was so scared, I didn't know what to do. I just screamed and screamed and even after they got her down I kept screaming. I was so scared and that terrified me. I didn't think I could still be afraid of death because for a while I wanted to die myself but I'm starting to realize that's not what I want.
And that's horrifying. I don't know how to live with this sadness and these burdens and this stupid voice telling me it's okay not to eat lunch or dinner. I don't know what to do Logan. For so many years of my life I wanted to die, I didn't want anyone’s help and I refused to go into any form of treatment. But I'm here now and I am talking and I'm feeling better? Only a little bit and not for long periods of times. Really it's only when I write you these letters. I hope you don't tell me to stop writing these because they make me feel better, it's an escape if only for a while.
I'm sorry for freaking you out with the story about my roommate. I'm sorry for being sad. I'm sorry for sharing so much of myself.
Sincerely,
Poppy
I told my therapist about writing you letters and sending them to you, thinking she'd be proud of me. Guess what? She never meant for me to send them out. Another fucking disappointment. I like the idea of sending them though even if you don't read them because these letters are heavy and I'm tired of things weighing me down. If I kept them to myself or just threw them away I feel like I wouldn't feel better. Fuck my therapist was right. I hope you don't mind me sending them still. Again if you don't want me to just say something.
A girl from group therapy had to go to the hospital today. She tried to kill herself last night. She tried to use the bed sheet as a noose. Want to know how they found her? I did. She was my roommate. I woke up to a chair scraping against the floor and gasping and I saw her hanging there. I was so scared, I didn't know what to do. I just screamed and screamed and even after they got her down I kept screaming. I was so scared and that terrified me. I didn't think I could still be afraid of death because for a while I wanted to die myself but I'm starting to realize that's not what I want.
And that's horrifying. I don't know how to live with this sadness and these burdens and this stupid voice telling me it's okay not to eat lunch or dinner. I don't know what to do Logan. For so many years of my life I wanted to die, I didn't want anyone’s help and I refused to go into any form of treatment. But I'm here now and I am talking and I'm feeling better? Only a little bit and not for long periods of times. Really it's only when I write you these letters. I hope you don't tell me to stop writing these because they make me feel better, it's an escape if only for a while.
I'm sorry for freaking you out with the story about my roommate. I'm sorry for being sad. I'm sorry for sharing so much of myself.
Sincerely,
Poppy