chapterthree

          It's 2:14 AM.
          It's just another one of those sleepless nights. I am locked in my own mind again. I become a different person at night. I once wrote a letter to myself a couple weeks ago at about this same time, and when I woke up and read it, I didn't even recognize that person. This depression is like a demon inside me. It changes me. I become someone I'm not. This depression tortures me with horrible thoughts and memories. It makes me want to scream, and run, and cry. I can't even hide from it. It's just there, slowly killing me.
         No one cares about you, Grace. Why do you even keep fighting when no one is there for you. You're all alone. You're never going to get better. You're going to be stuck with this depression forever.
           Flashbacks from my past started being thrown at me in every direction. The girls pointing their fingers at me, calling my name, and laughing. Those mean words people called me. The rumors. The teasing. The secrets. The bullies. Everyone gaining up on me. All this kept replaying in my head over and over and over again.
          I told you no one cares about you. Grace, you're just stupid and ugly and worthless.
          I first started getting bullied in fifth grade, but at the time I was used to it and it was just minor teasing. It started to grow in middle school though. It changed me. These flashbacks come back almost every night. The voices and laughs of the people that hurt me. No one really cared that it was hurting me so much, not even my best friend.
          Things started to change in my mind, and I started imagining I was talking to Anna about the whole bullying thing. I have barely said a thing about it to her. I can just imagine starting to tell her about all of it, and breaking inside. I can just imagine the tears streaming down my face, trying to hide them, and wanting to run away. I know I wouldn't be able to though. It's all just a matter of time before she asks me about it.
          I'm scared. I'm afraid to cry. I don't want to tell my secrets. I've kept them in for so long that I don't think I have the strength to anyway. I don't think I could say it. She says she understands what I'm going through, but does she really? What if I can't even say it? What if I just start crying instead? I don't want to cry. I haven't really cried about this, or anything actually in a long time. I don't even think I know how to anymore. Ugh, I don't want to do this anymore.
          I sat up in bed, crawled over to the edge, and pulled the curtains to the side. I stared at the darkness of the night. No one is awake but me. The only light on is the street lamp a few houses down. Everyone else is fast asleep comfortably in their warm beds with their loved ones along side them. And me? I'm awake, and all alone.