So here I am living in tomorrow. Amber, it's been six months and I still can't get over the fact that i can't see my little sister. I really hope your well Amber, I hope your safe and I hope you are happy, most importantly I hope you are healthy.
I sent my letter in the mail hoping for Amber to see it. I am so tired of having this feeling of something on my back is trying to push me down. I'm on the verge of falling. I sighed and went to my room.
Dear Diary,
" I can't do this anymore. I'm tired of worrying about Amber but I know I can't stop. After all she is my little sister who I was supposed to take care of, I can't even do that anymore. What's the point of living when your entire life is legit gone? Commitment, nowadays people have something they're committed to. Whether it be their phones, or their jobs, or their spouses, everyone is committed to something. For me it's silver. Whether that be the silver jewellery I saw on that girl I passed by, or the silver on the razors I used to shave, I love it. Over time the commitment to silver just slowly grows. It goes from small pieces on my razors, to the small blade in the pencil sharpener, to the silver on the kitchen knifes. After a while, my commitment slowly change from the silver of the blade to the red lines it left, to the sting of my jeans rubbing against my thighs, and even the pain of the shower water trickling down my skin. I committed to the art I drew. Each line representing a thought I had. "Why can't you just get out of bed?" "Seriously, go take a shower you stink!" "How long has it been since you brushed your hair?" "Ew, why would you say that?!" "There are so many bottles on your floor." "They're disappointed in you!" "You shouldn't be here." I committed to the feeling of emptiness and disappointment. I committed to the red blood that covered my skin and stained my towels. I committed to the hopelessness and despair, and I committed to the facts that I couldn't save myself from it. I committed to a lot of things. But now that I look back, seeing how deeply I clung to those feelings, i realised maybe in the end I've committed to nothing but suicide."
I put my diary under my mattress and went for a shower. The stinging showers are the absolute worst.
How about I just go hang myself, then I don't have to worry about anything. But if I do, my mother will think she was a terrible mother. My sister will understand this when she's older and maybe also kill herself. And she will think she was a terrible sister for making the choice of choosing dad. But what if she's also having the same thoughts as me. What if she's being abused. What if she has bruises everywhere by dad.
I look over to my clock and realised it's already five, I have school at six thirty. I guess I'll try and sleep, but what if Amber is hurt, what if she is yelling for help. I sighed. I just need some rest.