Me and Chels sent George a letter with the words from Glycerine by Bush. We sent it anonymously. As soon as we dropped it into the post box I wanted to get it back. Ahhh, it’s going to be obvious who sent it. I shouldn’t have let her talk me into it.
Every time that I go to do my hair or makeup I keep seeing the pictures of George around my mirror and it makes me miserable. So I pulled them all down and put them in a draw. I don’t want to see his stupid face at the moment.
It’s weird that so many girls at my school pretend to be depressed to get attention. I never really tell anybody what I feel, I just write it down in this little book. Being depressed isn’t something to joke about or use for attention. It’s no fun at all. I’ve just got so upset to a point where now I don’t even really feel anything. I go to sleep and wake up about 10 times in the night, and I’m so tired.
Everything’s different for different people, where their line is and how things affect them, but for me I just want to curl up and go to sleep for a week.
I’ve been cutting my phone calls shorter and shorter with George. I still think I love him, but he’s doing a good effort of being cold.