Recovering Suicidal Teenage Journal

“Each of us, in the journey through mortality, will travel his own Jericho Road. What will be your experience? What will be mine? Will I fail to notice him who has fallen among thieves and requires my help? Will you? Will I be one who sees the injured and hears his plea, yet crosses to the other side? Will you? Or will I be one who sees, who hears, who pauses, and who helps? Will you?”

--Thomas S. Monson
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Chapter 1: Annoying tea time party
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I think this hospital got to be the weirdest one I have been too. Let me tell you this is my third attempt. I don’t know why I can die. The first time, I slit my wrists; I told my parents it was an accident. The second time, I forced myself the fall down the stairs. Once again I told my parents an accident. Each time I just had been to an emergency room of a hospital but never on suicide watch. This time was different, I thought by taking an overdose on medication pills (pain reliever, and other medication) that I could truly be gone. But no! I just became unconscious, and I guess my mother couldn’t wake me up to go to school.

I hate school. But that’s another topic.

I have to go back to why I hate this place.

First the walls are painted white. Boring old white. Where I can see each cracks on the wall, especially in my walls. I counted 57 cracks on the ceiling.

Second of all, my room is really small, and I hate small spaces, and I especially hate being in a space, where the room has to be locked at night. I like sleeping at home with the door open, so then if there is a fire, I could escape easily.

Third of all, everyone here scares me. No I might be suicidal but I am still sane. There’s this one polyester kind of girl, who keeps talking to herself. Reminds me of Gollum from Lord of the Rings. Very creepy. Anyway I tried talking to her. Apparently my doctor’s name is Doctor Suzanne Allan, and told me to call her Susan. Why I don’t know. Well my doctor told me that I might be lonely (You think?!) and try talking to people here.

Boy was I wrong. First of all that polyester girl, named Polly (ironic I think not) decided that she liked me a lot. Apparently she didn’t get the point that I don’t like her, and forced me and two other girls my age, to be at her tea party.

The activity today was to have tea right after lunch. Kind of cute, for those who are old, but I am not old with gray and wrinkly hair. I have boring plain old brown hair and brown eyes. The only thing mildly interesting about myself is that I have a mole on the left side of my mouth (think of Cindy Crawford) and a birthmark on my body.

But I am still ugly anyway.

The other two girls who were trapped in Polly’s tea time party, had to play with one of her dollies, and had to drink pretend tea with our dollies.

Luckily, I don’t act like a five year old, and escaped by telling her I had to go to the bathroom.

She didn’t come after me. Neither did the gothic girl (who stayed in the corner) and the other girl, who was very pretty but had a dazed look on her face.

I had tea in my room, and then got my medication (to detoxify my body from the medication pills I overdosed over) and then because my medication tends to make me drowsy I went to take a nap in my room.