Please don't tell my secrets, keep them hidden... --- We got to discuss the military tactics of World War One in History class. Walking about on the soccer practice fields in the blazing hot sun with no clouds in sight for a time of 30 minutes, give or take. I thought I was going to die and I was highly unsatisfied the whole time. One: I was BRIGHT. The sun was just beating down on my back. Two: I dislike the people in that class let alone Mr. Leonard who I think just likes to see us groan at the stupidity of the things we have to do in his class. Three: It felt like 80 degress outside, no make it around 90, that makes it much hotter. We got back inside and I could not see right in front of me as the sun had impaired my eyes for that short time. Oh, and the typical idiot cheerleader in our class said we could fight the machine gun by walking in single-facing line. What is she, retarded and brain-dead?? I mean, I know I am an idiot but when she suggested that I just stared at her like she was Depp or Davey. -_- Today marks one month, one month since Aimee left this earth. I only told one other person who Aimee was and what happened and since I found myself crying during 3rd period and even putting myself in my guidance counselors office, realizing that I would not be over it until a long moment, I will tell you all now who Aimee was and why I would cry over her. Aimee Spencer was my friend when I lived up in Philadelphia, after I moved down to this stupid state she moved not long after to Germany. There she stayed with her dad for military purposes and we continued to talk on IM/e-mails and letters, we even had a reunion planned for this summer when she came back to the states. But, as said before all things must come to an end and that is exactly what Aimee's life did on March 16 of this year. She downed two whole bottles of aspirin and when that did not prove to be the desired affect she slit her own throat and bled to death. They said she left a note, but her dad said the words in there are too much and he does not want anyone else to read it. She was born on August 8, 1988 [8/8/88 - Odd yes?] you, the smart people, figure out how old she was. I do not want to hear the "I'm Sorries." This diary benefits myself, therefore I wrote it on here as well as elsewhere for both my mother and counselor told me to do it. It was not some plea for more attention, for that is the least of what I want. I just felt that her story should be told, the same as mine should when the day I die comes around. -shrug- Though I would prefer to go on forgotten. Have a great evening and two days away from the thing called school, where we go to "learn." I will be getting the hair cut and dyed again, that is it. Mucho fun.. May you think, because without it we are nothing... -_- So destined I am to walk among the dark...