Journal Entry 5: 24.10.2018
I can’t breathe.
I can’t eat.
I can’t sleep.
I can’t do all the things I used to. Things that I once liked, that I once found enjoyment from.
When I go into town, I’m back at the party. The crowds. The voices. The laughter. The noise. All that noise. Yet all that silence. As if the world has stopped. As if it’s waiting for me. But to do what I don’t know. Maybe I’ll never know.
When I watch my favourite TV shows, everything reminds me of that night. The short skirt on the actress. The beer in the hand of the guy playing the dad, that actor my mum fancies. The long hair of the girl on Hollyoaks. The crying on I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here. The cheering and clapping on Strictly Come Dancing. Are they clapping at me? Or at him, cheering him on? Egging him on.
When I sit down to eat dinner with my mum, the smells even bring me back to that night. The wine in my mum’s glass, the apples in her fruit crumble smell like warm cider, the meat reminds me of the pepperoni pizzas that Lee’s brother ordered at midnight. And my mum just asks me, ‘What’s wrong?’ over and over again.
Over.
And.
Over.
What am I supposed to say? How am I supposed to answer that question? Because it’s not a simple answer.
Inside, I’m on fire, burning to a charred crumbling crisp until nothing that resembles me remains. But outside I’m below zero, frozen in the same position, never able to break free, to move forward. I’m stuck. I’m trapped.
That’s what’s happening to me. It’s all happening to me again. I relive that night every day, every minute.
When I go to the shops, the sequins remind me of the top that I wore that night to the party, the necklace in Topshop looks like the one I wore. The window display and red letters at H&M remind me there’s an outfit from there that I can’t take back like I had planned. I can’t return it because it’s ripped, torn, stained. Like me. It lies hidden in a bag under my bed, at the back, away from hands, eyes, opinions. Not like me. I’m not that lucky. I have to face people. I have to take it.
And when I get home, when I think I’m safe, my phone beeps: ‘Have you seen what Lucy posted?’
What gives people the right to post whatever they want on a public forum? They sit behind their screens, safe from the world, and rant horrible things about people that most of them would never have the guts to say to that person’s face. Cowards. All of them. Except Lucy. At least what she writes she would say – or has said – to my face at one point. But all those other people who comment on her posts? No, come the next day they say ‘Hi’ to me in the hallway. They bite their tongues and wait until I pass them before taking out their phones and telling the world what they really think of me.
Cowards.
I can’t believe people form opinions so quickly. Actually, of course I do, it’s me. They hate me. They call me whatever they want behind my back, and now to my face. Lucy McNeil and that Lily Shepherd. Like she can talk, she stole Sophia’s boyfriend from her. Like she should be throwing mud at me. She’s tainted by rumours just as much as me, but that doesn’t matter. Because Lucy protects her. No one is there to protect me.
I’m all alone. Or at least, that’s how I feel every day now.
I actually thought that I would be embarrassed for people to find out. But now I’m angry. Because that’s not what happened. They don’t understand. They never will. They think what they want about me. Nothing will change that, especially not my words. They mean nothing.
That guy might be guilty for what he did to me, what he took from me. But all those people who pass judgement, who post comments online along with Lucy, who whisper things about me under their breath at school when I walk by, who pass notes about me in class, all of them are just as guilty. Because they’re hurting me too. They’re taking advantage of me too. They’re taking away something from me too. Something that I’ll never get back.
I hate school right now.
I asked Mum if I could change schools but she said I can’t. That unless I just drop out, I’m stuck there. Why should I have to drop out? Why should they chase me away?
This is all Lucy’s fault.
She thinks I stole Rhys, but they were over long before I met him. He never even looked my way before that. He probably didn’t know my name, or that we went to the same school. But when he did look my way, it was amazing. He made me feel amazing. Now he avoids me like the rest. He didn’t even stick up for me last week when Lucy got in my face. I barely touched her and she flopped to the ground, making pathetic noises. And he didn’t ask me if I was OK – why is no one asking me if I’m OK?? Does no one care? I want to stand in the middle of the cafeteria and scream, ‘I AM NOT OK!!!’
I will never be again.
I’m so angry. Why am I so angry at everyone all the time?
It’s just so unfair.
People like Lucy McNeil will get what’s coming to them. I’ll make sure of that.