Diary entry #1

“I know things happen for a reason, but sometimes I wish I knew what that reason was.”

Life is going to come and hit you as hard as it can, as many times as it wants, because  that’s what life does; it does its very best to make your life miserable, and you know that you’ve won the game when you actually feel happy. No more misery, no more tears, no more heartbreak, no more of any of the crap that makes life suck. No one wins. Not really anyway.

Only one thing can make life bearable. Love. True love, to be accurate.  Any kind of love other than true love just leads to heartbreak, and then you start losing the game. True love, being with the person that truly loves you, and you truly love them, can make you forget all the crap that life puts you through. They make you smile and they make you feel good about yourself and they just love you for you, more than anyone else in the world can. And life sucks.

The Script says that bad happens for a reason in their song, Breakeven. What I want to know is what that reason is. I think after all I’ve been through, I deserve an answer. What did I do to deserve all of this? This diary is the only thing keeping me sane. And music. Music helps me more than anything. It’s the only thing I can listen to that doesn’t call me a murderer.

I’m not, obviously, but no one believes me. Why would I kill my own brother?  I’m only the main suspect because I have no alibi. And I fought with him before my mother found his body. To the police, they have found their killer. Now they just have to prove it. I want to know how they plan on proving I killed him when I wasn’t even there. Well, to them, I was there. They probably are going to find the murder weapon with my prints on it or something. Just like a crime show. But I’m not the killer. Plan is not correct. Sorry cops, not sorry. All I want to know is who really killed my brother.  

Love…

  The ‘murderer’

Diary entry #2

Why is it that everything bad happens to me? 

Seriously, why is it that everything bad happens to me? My life sucks. I can't focus in school to save my life, so I'll never graduate college, and no one likes me, and now I'm a murderer. Apparently. But I'm not, and no one believes me.

Today the whole school watched as I was pulled out of class to be interviewed by the police. They asked me again, if I killed my brother. I told them no. They laughed in my face. To them, there is no doubt that I killed my brother. No alibi, no real reason to be somewhere else, the fight.

God, I wish I could go back and not leave the house. I wish I could have apologized to my brother. We were fighting over something so stupid. I think it was my grades. He was always so protective... I'm still getting used to talking about him in the past tense. It's so goddamn hard. Do you mind if I swear? 'Cause I know that I will in the next few entries. I used to never swear, but you know, things change. Oh I'm sorry, did that sound bitter? Oh, wait, was that sarcasm? Oh my God, I speak sarcasm?

But seriously, diary, I think I can trust you. I wonder if anyone will read you. Just in case, I won't say absolutely everything. God, I sound insane. I'm talking to a diary like it's a therapist. But I'm going to tell you about the night my brother died.

I got home from school, I remember that much. Then, my brother was waiting for me. It was winter time, about 4:15, so it was dark out. My brother yelled at me. He told me I was worthless, and I was just burdening our family. I needed to get my grades up or I would end up on the streets, doing stupid shit to get money. I wasn't very nice either. I told him to get a job, a girlfriend, a life, anything just to get him off my back. I told him I wanted him gone. I told him that if he died no one would care. Then I walked out. I remember freezing and thinking about my life. I did know that I needed to get my grades up. My parents wanted me to be a doctor, when all I wanted to do was goof off all day and party hard and sing all day, every day.

When I came home, all the lights were on and there were cops at my house. I walked in and found my mother hovering over my brother's body. He was dead. I knew that immediately. My mother looked up at me and asked me, "Where were you?" all I could do was stand there and stare. Then the police came and took me away. I've been released, obviously, but they still question me all the time. All I remember telling them that I was innocent. They just laughed in my face. That's all everyone does now. Laugh at me like I'm some kind of joke.

Love...

the 'joke'

Diary entry #3

I'm gonna smile like nothing's wrong, pretend like everything's okay, act like it's all perfect, even though inside it really hurts.

Today people at my college laughed at me. I laughed with them, even though it made me sick. Isn't that sad? I can't enjoy my life anymore? I have to force a smile everyday because if I don't I'm going to lose my mind? God, I wish one person would act like they care about me. Just one. That's not much, is it? Is it too much to ask for something great? (A/N sorry I had to. I love One Direction's new album) I'm dying here. I'm so sorry, diary, if my tears splash onto your pages. I just had a really bad day. Those people, they said,

"Look boys, here comes the murderer, better not make her mad or she'll kill you."

A harmless joke, really. But not to me. I used to let things roll off my shoulders. Now mention my brother, my life, murderer, and I'm sobbing like a baby. When they said that, they laughed and I laughed with them. Then, I sprinted to the bathroom to be sick. I missed half on my first class because I felt so horrible. I have to fake a smile everyday, fake everything. Fake it when people say I'm so sorry. All I can do is smile and nod and say thank you, because in my mind all I'm thinking is no you're not sorry you don't know how this feels it sucks butt and I'm losing my mind. I need my brother back, diary, I really do. He made everything okay. When people bullied me for being fat, or stupid, he held me and made me feel better. I really miss him. And now I'm going to go to my thereapy session that my mom sends me to because it helps and go lie to that person's face on how everything in my life is just fine, thank you how was your day?

Love...

the 'liar'

Diary entry #4

People's brains stop working when they think they're going to lose someone they love.

God yes. Yes, yes yes I am losing my mind. I thought I saw my brother again today. I just walked home and he was there, sitting on the counter like he always did. But when I looked again, he was gone. I can't focus on anything except for him. I've been wearing his sweatshirt for 3 days.

Diary, do you think I'm crazy? Its okay if you do, because I know I am. I think its because my brother was a huge part of my life. Now that he's gone, I feel confused. I'm not sure what to do. I didn't cry, you know. Not when I saw him, not when I was getting questioned, not afterwards when I was alone in my room. I just stared at the wall. I feel numb. Is that normal? Is it normal not to cry after the one person truly loved you dies. I feel horrible because we fought right before he died. He died not knowing how much I actually cared about him because I suck at expressing my feelings.

My therapist told me that he knows that I love him. He's watching me from heaven and hoping I'll get better. I wanted to tell her to stuff it, because that did not help. It only made me feel worse. All it made me do was think about him dead, and all I want to do is think about him alive.

Should I tell you his name?I haven't said it since he died. It hurt too much. But I trust you, and I think it will help me. His name was James. I know, really common name, but I liked it. It seemed to suit him somehow. I think because its an old name and he was so old-fashioned. That didn't hurt too much, did it? Oh who am I kidding, the tear drops are on this page. But its there, I trust you so please try not to share it. Oh God, I'm talking to you like you are an actual person. Lord help me.
Love...
The 'physco'

Diary entry #4

he only person you should try to be better than, is the person you were yesterday.

I just realized, diary, that you don't know me very well. No one does. The only person that really knew me was my brother. Now, no one knows me. Well, I have decided that you are now my new best friend. If you dont like it, too bad. I need one.

So, about myself, I am twenty years old. I am a girl, in case you didn't know. I am single, I mean seriously, who would date a murderer? My favorite color is purple and my birthday is August 8th. As you already know, my brother was James. My dad walked out when my mom told him she was pregnant, so no dad for me. I like to be alone. My mom works all the time, so I don't know her very well. I really am alone all the time which is fine by me. I like to read, and talk to you.

I also play soccer, but not as much anymore, since I'm not good enough for college. I love to sing and my dream is to be a famous singer. I also can play guitar. I love food and I eat a lot of it. Well, not as much anymore. I've been depressed lately. I've never been anorexic, or bulimic. I love food too much to ever give it up. Um, I'm really not that interesting. Do you think I'm interesting? You can be honest.

My fashion sense is... normal? I just bury myself in huge sweatshirts and jeans. Oh, and I love converse. Heels piss me off. They just hurt my feet. Sorry, you don't listen to me to hear me rant about heels. I've gotten shallow, haven't I? I'm ranting about shoes, for God's sake. I'm sorry. I just feel... better, talking about myself. That sounds bad, but it really is just taking my mind off my brother. I'm such a stupid litte wimp. I'm talking about myself like I'm actually cool. I'm not cool. I've never been cool.I never will be cool. 
Love...
The 'loser'

Diary entry #6

People do not die from suicide, they die from sadness

 I have a confession to make, diary. I’ve been thinking about suicide. I’ve been thinking that my life truly does suck, and no one would miss me when I’m gone. No one. My dad doesn’t know me, I don’t have any friends, and my mom would be as glad as hell to get her son’s killer out of the way.

I just can’t take it anymore. I miss James too much. I want to be with him. I used to think that people who commit suicide are just weak. Well, now I know that it’s because they have no other option. I’m going to kill myself tonight. I’m going to jump off the bridge because I would rather do that then try and hang myself or put myself to sleep  because I know that I will struggle and jumping into freezing cold water that’s thirty feet below will definitely not let me struggle to survive.

I’m glad I got to talk to you. I’m really glad. You were a great friend. I’ll miss writing to you. Except, for this sign-off, I’ll use my real name. You deserve as much. You deserve to know who I really am right before I die. I’m taking you with me, see. I want to read you, to remember my previous thoughts. I’ve been having trouble remembering things lately. I think that’s because my body knows it’s going to die.

Well, dear, dear, diary, this is good-bye. I just want you to know that I love you. I don’t say that often, or at all, but I do love you. More than I can express. You helped me in ways I can’t describe. I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk more. I just want to leave. I’ll see you soon, okay?

Love…

Brielle