Already the emotions swell,
I'm told need to vent my feelings construction,
but theres to much for me to vent,
so I get in my car,
and then I drive.

My plan was to end it all,
it felt like th clock was reaching zero.

I was asked to promise not to do anything,
all I said is that I have no guarentees.
Right before my best friends eyes I peeled out.
I never planned for this.
Not really.

The first thing I did,
though it was never planned,
I'd rather've used a gun or knife myself,
I slamed my car into the side of another.

Four kids were in it.

I didn't know them.

Worse thing is...
I didn't care.

In the parking lot was a cop,
entrusted to watch over us,
he saw me and gave chase,
but I ran home as my car threatened to die,
I gess I figured I'd be "safe" there.

He said get on the ground,
get on the ground,
or he swore to god the dog will come out.

I did.

And it was over.

I discovered that the kids were ok,
for that I thanked whatever divine power there was.
Had I killed one,
or even severly injured one,
I would never be asking for forgivness,
I would never even accept it.

I knew my mother was hurt,
crushed at what I did,
so so disapointed.

I was asked why I did it,
I told them why not,
I didn't care,
I wanted to die.

When my father came in,
I was at the police department.
The first words out of his mouth were not "hello",
"how you holding up?",
"are you ok?",
instead it was,
"so how does that bracelet feel?",
he was refering to the handcuffs.

I wounder...
Is this my epics?

My mom had told me once,
if I had ever been caught by the cops,
never call her,
she said she'll either say I'm not hers,
or for them to keep me.
And that I should call my dad.

At one time I had been set down by my father,
for a talk.
He said suicide was for weak cowards.
His brother-in-law shot himself.
Dad says he thinks less of his brother doing so.

I don't think either of my parents love me anymore.

Ater a time,
I wasd told I need help,
then I was sent off to the local JDC.
I feel like my mind was being raped when I first came,
he didn't do too much though.
It was probably just routine.

I was placed inside an Isolation Chamber,
there was no window,
I didn't have a mirror,
simply a cold cold bed,
a sink,
and a toilet.
Above me was a camera,
with that I was always watched.

At first I liked it,
infact I still do,
I was alone,
and I was out of peoples way.
But I call that place the crazy room,
I heard voices and laughs,
everything echoed endlessly.
It gave me a sense that everything was fake,
it was all a dream.
When I woke up I'll be back home.

But no,
things continued on,
a single scream echoed in my head for minutes afterward.

Things here aren't that bad,
most of the people here are nice and want to help,
some are just doing there job.

I've started talking to a psychologist finally,
she says I could be Clinicly Depressed,
all the signs are there,
she says I internalize everything.

Infact,
I think I've caught myself doing that.

Since I've been here,
though my next court day is the 15th of October,
I've cried too much,
mostly when I go to my room,
when I'm out I do my best to keep it in,
bottle it up with what energy I have.

I've been told that the school's been getting behind me,
hopeing for the best and awaiting my return.

I don't understand this!
After what I've done,
how can these people be behind me,
wanting to help??
How? How?

But sadly,
I can only sleep and try to stay out of trouble.
And thus I write,
waiting to get out,
so that I can make amends.

After 2 days they put me in a normal room,
I guess they felt I am no longer a threat to myself.
In the new room I do have a window thou
gh,
but the sun is hardly out,
and I often wounder if the sky feels what I do.

We still go to school,
it's something we need to do,
hopefully we'll become re-integrated into society.

The talking has helped,
to the counselor I see.
I at least acknowledge it,
and have small weapons to fight it.

But still,
though the burden is somehow lighter,
all my feelings are still too much,
too overwhelming for me,
for me to feel like I can handle it.

I've gotten stacks of mail,
from family and friends,
a part of me is thankful,
glad for there support,
but also confused,
still unsure as to why they stay with me.

Inside my head,
it's like the demons have gotten in,
the fighting is now in my castle,
no longer outside,
there isn't anything to hold off the storms,
all hell's broken lose.
Blood and oil stain the rugs,
mr darker half has finally show his true self.

I think this is the final battle,
the one that decides who will live,
and who will die,
the two of us stand ready at the highest point in this world,
the battle inside threatening to level the castle.

Outside more troops rush in to aid,
human soldiers,
carrying guns and grenades,
Kellys troops,
fireing volleys of arrows into the enemy.
More yet pour in,
some can only yet be seen in the distance,
the blade I am to weild also glows with a sort of power.

And thus I write,
it may very well be the last time I do.
Theres been many times at night,
where I wished I died that night,
that I could be mourned then forgotten,
othertimes I wish I were dead,
period,
I can't stand how I'm feeling,
I want it to stop.

More often than not,
when I try to sleep,
I often thought,
"Wouldn't it be nice if I fell asleep and never woke up again?".
Many a time I wished it happened.

Now even my dreams plague me,
I find myself in strange and scary places,
me emotions out of control,
collapsing on the ground and banging my head upon the walls,
begging and pleading to make it all stop,
willing to do anything to make it stop.

And still at night,
a part of my dreams remain reality,
I'm on my bed,
and I'm banging my head on the wall,
I just want it to stop,
my thoughts keep racing,
I keep feeling miserable.
I even hope I die from brain damage.

I can't fight these things too well,
I'm only able to point them out.

And thus I write,
it's the only thing I can really do.

Things have changed,
I'm sentanced 1-90.
I lost my licence for a year,
no big deal there.
I have to undergo a psych evaluation,
I just want to go home.

I have an appointment on the 21st,
I'm gonna start forgetting what I tell people,
it's like after so many times,
it's like I've told everyone already.

Many a time I've seen a poster before me in class,
it always says "risk",
"Take your chances...",
"or someone else will.".

I can't help but lauph at the irony of it,
when compared to my situation.
I don't think someone wants to take the chance I took.

But,
there may be light yet!

I've been perscribed medication,
though mixed feelings I do give it.
Zoloft,
they call it.

Only time can really tell if it will help much...

And thus...

I write...

Closeing this chapter,
and continueing on.

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