yesterday, i went shopping with my mother. i got my father that Norah Jones CD, my brother a little fountain, and my mom a little hand and foot parafin bath thing. after my mom and i came home, we were sitting in the kitchen, wrapping gifts, and my father came in and told me to get my clothes ready for school the next day. and i told him i wasn't going to school today.

so he started to yell at me and insult my being and told me that any plan they come up with won't work because i put forth no effort and am a lazy slob who does nothing and doesn't try. and i told him that as far as i was concerned, it was none of his damn business anyway. so he got right up in my face and threatened to hit me. and i told him to. i said i didn't care and that he should go ahead and do it. and he, regaining his sanity, sent me to my room.

while in my room i contemplated suicide. for hours. 2 or 3 at least. but i had no razor, no pills, no chemicals. so i sat and my anger and sadness throbbed and festered and tears streamed down my face. my eyes were getting so puffy they were going numb, and my head hurt from clenching my teeth against the sobs that i wouldn't let out. i felt so helpless that i tried to bite open my wrists, but i was too much of a wuss. so i bit hard, deep bites on my forearms and scratched my nails desperately against my other wrist. considering i used my nails, my wrist bled for a long time. i dabbed up the blood with a few tissues and dropped them into the trash can next to my bed.

hours later, i was still crying, laying on my bed and staring at the wall, praying with all of my being that when i fell asleep, God would let me die. my mom came in and asked me why i was crying. i wouldn't answer her. she knew why. it was then that i saw my father standing in my doorway. in a vicious voice unlike my own i growled, "get away from me. i HATE you."

my mom sat silently on my bed for a while, and must have looked in the trash can, because she asked my why the tissues in there were bloody. my dad still wouldn't leave. i told him to leave again, and he wouldn't. he just stood in the doorway gazing down at me. my mom asked again why the tissues were bloody. "do you have a bloody nose?" she asked persistantly. a few moments passed. "did you cut yourself?" she inquired quietly.

i lost control. i screamed at my dad to leave. he wouldn't. "what do you suggest we do about this amanda?" he asked loudly. i spat that this was the perfect chance to send me back to Pinefield Institution. he laughed at me, laughed and said, "if i hated you the way you think i do, i would have gotten rid of you by now." i told him that disgusted me, that he made me want to throw up. and i told him to get the hell away from me again. he was deaf to my demands.

he continued to tell me that i can't just drop out of life and have to be a contributing member of society. mom my just sat on my bed, listening. she goes along with anything he says. she abandons me completely when my dad gets mad at me. she always takes his side.

"we won't go down this road again, amanda," he said, speaking of the cutting. "we're not going to go through this again. and you're not going to make life for everyone in this house miserable just because you don't want me to be your father."

i sagged sadly, knowing i would never win this argument. i apologized for saying all those things to him, and to my mother for making her cry. they left and i just sat there, in the dark, picking at the cut on my wrist. finally, the darkness took me.