You just used me to get close to her. You already had her
wrapped around your nger and you knew it.
Look, I already said I elt bad about reading her journal. But I have to tellyou, at that moment, I elt like I was supposed to be reading it or some
reason. It was so
right in ront o me, almost as i she wanted me to
read it. It no longer elt like a journal to be read by fashlight under midnight
covers; it elt like a play to be shared with the masses. The act went on.
Anyone. Anyone at all, just please come and save me.
This was the point where I began to move rom eeling that I was backstage
peering through the curtains to eeling that God knew since the dawn o time that I would be ront row and center in 9C and this girl would be onstage in 9B. “Anyone at all, just please come and save me.” I was shout-ing “Jesus saves!” in my head, hoping or some sort o auditory osmosis,but it wasn’t working. And then, as i that weren’t personal enough, shecontinued.
I have so much pain that I’m just holding on. I try to get away
but everywhere I go my problems always catch up. I’m so lost
in this world. Why can’t someone save me?
Remember, this was in green, Crayola marker. These words should havebeen written in blood. Her words were raw, something I would probably
never be honest enough to write, and certainly not something I would
write in a little, pink journal on a middle-seat tray table. Finally, the scenereached its climax.
Only one way out. It won’t hurt me, but it will others…
With that, the curtains closed as she sat back and stared upward in