suicide hotline


     Since my incompetent ass has issues and I don’t really have the time to write a suicide hotline for April, I’ve decided to put forth a couple pages from my first diary.


     These are my early journals. They show the development of a young troubled mind. The inside cover is scrawled with various designs and documents the time frame from 94-95. I was approximately 12-14 during this period. I was also escaping regularly into fantasy and referring to myself as Lucy. Also on the internal page, wrote on a later date it says: I was a corny little bitch then, most of it will be hard to read, be fore warned. The date I acquired this Journal was 2-10-94. I was in 7th grade. I have corrected all spelling and grammatical errors just for the sake of the reader, at many points in time the journal is so slang heavy only people who grew up during the early 90's would be able to read it. Any added words are only for clarity. An original preface to this diary is as follows but is undated:

     At this point in my life I don't have many beautiful things that make me happy but I will try desperately hard to think of some. I have never been a very happy person. I seemed to be cursed with always seeing the flaws first, but my life wasn't that morbid. Something’s that always made me happy were comic books, books, and music.
     Music always made me happy because I could sit, listen and think. Sometimes I can sit and think for hours just sorting out my problems in my mind. That always seems to help. Books make me happy because through books you can be somewhere else and be someone else. I like to read, it's something I do a lot of. I usually read more than I watch T. V. T. V. I think is depressing because all it shows is who killed who and other stuff I don't want to know (talk shows are amusing but it's sick how they exploit people's problems). Comic books make me happy because they are very amusing and interesting to me. I love to look at the pictures in them because it helps you visualize it plus it would be really cool to fly and stuff.
     As a final say, no matter how sad or depressed someone is they always have something a little bit happy or beautiful even if they deny it.

     As well as an initial preface to my first diary was a piece of paper that was written by my counselor and fellow group partners. Once a week we got together during study hall and discussed our familial problems. On this paper, the members got a chance to say what they thought about my personality. This paper is dated 12-13-94 and says the following:

Alexsandria-pretty neat, understanding, crazy, good friend, nice, smart.

Shakyra-pretty, smart, fun, fun to have around, good friend, good heart. I'm here if you need me. I always want to be your friend.

Shaundre-funny, silly, strong, self-confident, nice to have around, speak your mind with coaching.

Cori-fun to be with. Seem like you have fun in life despite problems. Concerned and care about family and others.

Mariann-good friend, understanding, nice.

Mrs. Conrad-funny, silly. I'm really glad I got to know you, unique in a special way.

(Written at a later date on the top is "I was a naive 12").

     What's up!? Not! Today a lot happened so I'll start at the beginning. First period I had reading (just remembered I had homework, oh no, more like oh boy). Back to the story. In the middle of class Ricky tells me to move and I replied "Why"? but I moved and then he throw an eraser at Sarah (it was funny). Hold it, I think that was fourth period, oh well. Then on the bus Ricky, Chris and Damian started spitting at each other. What tards.
     Major thought of the day: I hate some people really bad.
(at a later date, "like fucking tattle-tale Chris Paron" is penned in).


     I didn't write yesterday, I didn't have time. Oh well. Yesterday this kid that sits next to me in homeroom did my reading homework for me. He's kind of smart, well he has to be, he's a G.A.T.E. kid.
     Change Subject.
     Last night Jeneane called and told me about her school dance. She started crying because Eric danced with three different girls. Her friend Courtney sounds like a bitch but that is none of my business. I want Jeneane to come over but I can't make her. She's out buying a stove with her mother for their new house.
     At school I forgot Ebony's phone number. Well, gotta go.

Anne M.

(an interesting antidote at this point in time is that "kid" that sat next to me, is named Robert and he turned into a paranoid schizophrenic in 2002 after being discharged from the army. I've had a crush on him most of my life, and rereading these pages makes me want to hunt him down).

2-22-94 4:47 P.M.

     It's been awhile since I last wrote. Yesterday was one of the worst days in my life, but one of the best. Can't explain, now or never.

(I have no idea what the fuck happened but I love is scratched out at the bottom of the page).


     I wish I was dead. If I had more guts I would commit suicide. My dad is an asshole and I hate him as much as I hate myself. No shit, and that is a lot. All I need is someone else to tell me how fucked up I am but I already know that don't I? From now on I will sign my journal Lucy because that is who I am now. Anne checked out of here long ago. She was weak and boring.



     Forget the part about how much I hate my dad because I don't anymore. But Holly, that sick twisted demented bitch is going to get it. If she wants to get crazy she has no idea how fucking crazy I can be. I'll kill her. No shit. I'll fucking kill her, kill her, kill her, kill her. I'm going to run away. Who cares where. I'll go anywhere. Anywhere would be happier than here. Maybe I'll go somewhere and shoot myself and make everyone happy. I have Holly confused now and that is what I want because it's all a mind game. Mind over matter.
     If she wants me to talk it would be pointless because she wouldn't understand. I don't even understand anymore. She got pissed off at me because at dinner I smashed a piece of cake in a plate. Like I care. They said I embarrassed myself, like I care what those losers think...except my dad and grandma. I don't care about anything anymore except Larry. I can't let him grow up like I did. But I fear it's already too late.
     Is it my fault like everything else is? Oh, but Holly said that is just a cop out. How the fuck does she know? She can't read my mind. She wasn't there when I grew up, no one was. No one knows what happened. No one knows what it was like for me then. There is so many things I wish I could forget. My dad said something about "the healing process" but I'm so warped I couldn't forgive or forget even if I wanted to.

(I then place a very strategically timed Pearl Jam paraphrase)

"Maybe it was the abuse that made me wise but I'm not about to give thanks or apologize".


I'll never forgive Holly, not this time.


     All I can think about is how much I hate Holly.
     It's driving me crazy. I wish she would just die. If she or dad says anything I'm going to flip. I can't take it anymore. But who could? Not I.
     School was fucked with a capital F. We had the sun eclipse today.
     Holly thinks she has me figured out, but that bitch doesn't know shit. It's getting to me. I can't take it anymore. God I think I'm going crazy. All I can think about is her putting those holes in the walls.



     Today is memorial day and yes, I still hate the big f-ing hoe, bitch, motherfucker, slut slash hochiemama. I hope she goes to hell. My dad said "I would call her (at the bar) but she thinks I'm checking in on her". What a naive hoe. I love my family (not counting my biological father and Holly), they're the best.
     Gotta go for now.

A. L. M.


     My dad is a drunk.
     We went to a baseball game.


     That hoe. Oh yeah, it's "ADO", my god and now they are talking about me like I'm deaf. I can't take it and why is it my fault? The only reason I went into the basement was to find some clothes.
     I was pissed today, we were suppose to get a dog, but they didn't come home because they were out getting drunk. Motherfuckers. Holly is so damn stupid she can't tell me what to do. Not now or ever. What the fuck is her problem?


     That's it. I've got to talk to someone about this. I can't take Holly, that bitch. She's already threatening to take my dog away. If she does that she'll have taken everything from me. She's taken everything else. My family, my pride, my self-confidence. All of my dreams seem shredded. This is it. She's going to get it. It's me or her and guess who it's going to be? Whoever said "if you can't take the heat get your ass out" said it best, and I can't take it. I can't take the fucking heat and I'm ready to take the easy way out. I can't live like this. It's not a way of life. Even my dysfunctional family treated me better than this.
     I didn't mean to leave the door open. I didn't even know I did. Oh fuck I'm crying again. Well the tears come easier now-a-days, but when did they not? I hope Holly reads this some day when I'm dead. Jeneane, I'm going to let you read this because if I don't get help soon I don't know what's going to happen but who does? I feel as if I can't trust anyone anymore and I need help. I should be locked up in one of those places where all of the crazy people are. I'm not far from crazy anymore. God why must I suffer so? I know everyone suffers but not like this. I remember I use to be so happy but now I can't remember being happy anymore.

Anne "Lucy" Mc Millen

I write Anne again cause I'm still weak. I wish I could be strong like you Jeneane but I'm not.



Anne McMillen (AKA) AnnieM is a manic depressive who is currently living on the charity of her brothers couch. She is very single although there is a certain girl whose pants Annie is dying to get into, and there is also a guy who has a script for Oxycotin that Annie’s been thinking of “dating”. In her free time (which is all of her time) she enjoys substance abuse, video games, reading philosophy (because she is that pretentious), listening to music, and being a normal asshole from Ohio. When not busy playing pool or online spades, Annie some how fines time to write, obsessivly compulsivly, leaving her with a large arsenal of words she plans on unleashing on the “free” world.

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