Casey's hair sticks up, and it's really pretty. I want to see him. He might help all this badness to go away, or at least let me forget about it for a while. I can't believe how sweet he is. I'd almost forgotten his shining personality, his beautiful smile, his way of looking at me and making me feel safe. I think Joey saved my life. I think I would have taken that morphine if I didn't have Casey to live for. After all, Morgan could kill herself and come with me. We'd be together in our deaths. And it would stop there. But I couldn't kill Casey. I couldn't let him be sad, not even for one minute. Crap, I sound like one of those fucking idiots, but that's ok. I'm beginning to disgust myself. Also, I already disgust myself. At Ms. Freedman's retirement party I had 5 slices of pizza, then came home and had another 3. And I've had a shitload of pop. And I just plain make myself sick. I really need to stop the cutting. I don't do it as a hobby or for any reason, it's just... there. Anyway, I lost the razorblade, and everyone tells me not to. Which is probably why I tried it in the first place... Anyway, I really wish my grandma would get a clue. She keeps insisting that I'm not depressed, and that she'll give me something to be depressed about... She talks to me like she did when I was four: "STOP FUCKING CRYING! I'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT, YOU LITTLE BITCH!" I'm gonna die. Die die die die die die die die die die. Also, I will fail English. It's become a mathematical impossibility for me to pass. I think. Anyway, I think I'm going to give up on that one. Oh well, living was fun while it lasted... (Don't mind me, I always get over-dramatic when grades are coming up) ~ Beth