I hear silence

Why do I feel so horrible? Damn it, I wish I was the happiest girl on earth. There are girls like that you know, all happy and shit, and they ain't even Christian. At my parents I slept without Jeff in the bed for the whole weekend. There's three other people in the house. I can do that. I can go without. But at my place it's just another episode of lonely girl in the city. God, I'm so fat. I would be a candidate for bariatric surgery because my BMI is over 35 I think and I have a health problem because of my weight. I'm just starving myself. I want that in my obituary, "...died as a result of starving herself to become thin." If my obit ends up being the shortest one, the content will get everybody's attention. As a writer I like to shock people when circumstances are true. Let's shock everyone one last time. I want to look at my obit and smile because I couldn't have put words together any nicer than I'm reading. It would be nice to get a job at Centra State but I wouldn't know if I could handle it. Everyone in this damn family is normal so they in tern think of me as a normal girl. They don't know how debilitating a mental illness can be. I'm one of those girls who suffers silently. I used to yell, but I don't know where that went. Now I just scribble. The second something litters my mind and I think I have enough for a story, I run for the pen and notebook. But nobody listens. A few do (hi Donna). But I want normal people to get from behind their flawless personality and see what real pain is. I want them to put their hands on the head of a screaming mental patient or across the scabbed wrists of a girl who has slashed herself recently. That's pain. I've done both. I've done more. But nobody is listening.