Journal Book Entry # 97: June 5th, 1997
10:30 a.m.
So this will be my last journal entry on this book and, it may be awhile before I get a new one to start writing on, probably when school starts again. But for this matter I might as well fill out these last pages I have on this book and then call it a day. So… here we go.
So to start off, I have finally moved in with Ted and his mother. It took awhile to grab my things with all of the investigation going on. But nevertheless I was able to grab all of my things. I’m sharing a room with Ted with the apartment being only two bedrooms. It’s not much but it’s enough for me to feel at home. It’s close to school too, so there is no need for a bus or a car ride to the school, we can just bike there instead. Thank god it’s summer break! I can take it easy for now and finally get used to living in my new home.
Speaking of school, the school county has ordered students to write in a journal. This journal is for us to write down about our daily life, our thoughts, what’s bothering us, the usual stuff you would use a journal for. Another thing to note is that this isn’t just our county doing this practice; no it’s the whole country doing this. Luckily for me and other depressing, not in the head, assholes like me do not have to do this order. From what I gather from this decision, is because our mental illness is documented in our files? I guess student files that have our personal information maybe? Who knows. The only thing though is that we will still have to check in with our student counselors. I might have this all wrong but I know we have to still report to someone every month to see how we’re doing.
Now you may be thinking, “why they are doing this?” Well lucky for you my trusty journal, I have the answers. There have been increasing numbers of succeeded and failed attempts of suicides from ages of ten to nineteen years for past eleven years. But we already know that THING is the reason why, so let’s move on.
Ted and I have been going to the Hamilton Place mall a lot, stuff to look at and chow down on some good meals from the food court. I also spot some of our classmates too, especially Katherine or Kathy…or Kat. Mmm… I wish I had just enough courage to talk to her and get to know her. Maybe I’ll be lucky next semester. Anyway now to the other annoying stuff.
My dreams have been for the very least…been normal. I think I’m healing now. Oh, What am I saying? I am nowhere near from healing. There is no place to heal where I am. I am alone yet again, I have no dreams in life, no way of life to keep me going besides having Ted and his mom rooting for me and also the girl I love. I just wish that lady in my dreams would just leave me alone and stop haunting me. I want to forever have a normal life and not feel myself cutting myself every time I think, see, and dream of the lady of my nightmares.
I wished the remaining of my relatives would take me in but no, they either have passed away from old age, ran away with their child never to be heard from again, cut contacts and disappeared from the face of the earth, or are missing after not coming home one night leaving me alone again. And yet it was my best friend and his mom who stepped in to play the mother and brother role for me and took me in out of kindness and love, not the last ever remains of my family and relatives, which is barely at two, or just one!
Great now, I’m crying now from all of the overwhelming thoughts of this bullshit and crisis I’m in and that goddamn lady in that fucking dark black and grey jester outfit is in my room right now! Staring at me from the corner of the bedroom that is mine and Ted’s. A way to end this final journal entry am I right? That’s the thing though, it all will get better in the end………. Right?
My name is Jenny Lawrence and my new life begins here with the lady in the corner watching me and writing the last words on the last page of the journal.
Goodbye.
After reading this very personal journal entry, your attention is now towards the package containing another letter, work manuals, more entry logs, floppy disks, and a weird page that seems to be written like a novel style. The package is left with no return address. Hell, there isn’t anything for you to know who or what sent you this package. But what draws you closer is the envelope letter with the words “To The Handpicked” nicely written on it. Do you open the letter?