I’ve been planning on suicide this whole week. I think about you guys while you’re at school and I’m missing it and wandering around corners aimlessly. I missed you. I missed Lasse. I missed Janek and Oskar. I even missed Mrs. Nuhiu. I’m sorry I told my mother to tell you I wasn’t home when you guys came over to see me last week. I didn’t mean to ward off you. This is just something I can’t explain face to face with you. You know I always talk about anything. Or not.
I know I’ve been holding back a lot of things that happened in my house for the last three years from you. But all the time I spent with you guys were too precious. I don’t wanna tell you and be a downer. But I know you would always support me. That’s why I’m writing this letter now. I want you to support me for the last time.
For three years now, I’ve been witnessing something that is too awful to describe with words. I don’t know where to start. Or decide which one is worse than the other. All I know is my uncle Terry has been trying something on my mother since he got back from the navy. They hung out a lot since then. He would come over in daytime when my father is out at work. And I know they have been sleeping together shortly after that.
Things got worse than nightmare since two years ago. My parents have been fighting a lot this past couple of years. I mean…A LOT. I think my father felt something has been different with his wife. They got very sensitive toward each other everyday. He would yell and throw things and last month was the third time our neighbor called the police for the rumpus. My mother would cry and threaten to leave us.
I never said anything about what I know. My mother and I keep pretending like I don’t know anything. And finally I didn’t even know what to think when my father started to hit me as well.
I don’t know who did the worst. Until one time my father hit me in the head and I got this bruise so big and blue that I was afraid it’s something worse happened under my skin. That time I realized, this isn’t a matter of who did the worst thing. This is just my father hitting me in the head and my mother sleeping with my uncle. And I don’t deserve this. My father doesn’t deserve what he doesn’t exactly know. Even my mother doesn’t deserve to be not treated like a respected married woman as she’s supposed to be. This shit gotta stop.
So I’ve written another letters to each of my parents explaining the situation they deserve to know and understand. And I’m glad this is the turn I gotta write to you. I really missed you guys. I really hope we could hang out again like we used to do since we’re little kids. But I guess my year ends here now in the 8th grade. I’m gonna miss you all. Or I don’t know if I can feel anything once I’m dead. But keep in my mind, I’d always watch your back and hope for the best for you. And seriously, please don’t do drugs like those 9th grader jocks we ran into. Once again, PLEASE don’t do drugs!
I know there are a lot more we can talk about to each other if only we meet in person. But even when I’m dead, just remember that I’m always there for you. You can talk to me whenever you want. I’ll listen.
If you ask why am I doing this? Or why can’t I hold on a little longer or seek for help? Trust me. It’s something you can’t imagine that is pressing you down and makes you paralyzed from doing anything sane to even help yourself out. The pain sucks you in deeper and deeper. The more I think about a way out, the more useless it seems. So here I am.
I just want to get this out of my head before meeting my freedom. I really hope this doesn’t end this way, guys. But for once, believe me, I’m happy. I’m okay.
Your friend forever,