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His invitation lingers. So does my question. Why me? I don't know the answer. When I look at myself in the mirror, all I see is a starving, stunted bird who never grew wings and lost all reason to sing.

Julie Anne Peters

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Julie Anne Peters
Age: 72
Born: 1952
Born: January 16
Author
Engineer
Writer
Jamestown
New York
Never
Grew
Invitations
Question
Starving
Answers
Mirror
Lost
Mirrors
Doe
Wings
Reason
Sing
Stunted
Look
Bird
Lingers
Looks
Answer
Invitation

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My mother read that parents should spend quality time with their children. One way is to sign up for organized activities together. This month we're taking meditation to free the mind. Last month it was Rolfing. Have you ever Rolfed, Tone? Only after the school's shepherd's pie, I said.
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It was all about hate. There should be laws. We're there laws? Can you legislate against hatred?
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As they were carting him off on a gurney, all I could think was, I wish that was me.
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Like anyone cared where I was, or who I was.
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What can happen in a few minutes changes you forever.
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Me? I had no dreams. No longings. Dreams only set you up for disappointment. Plus, you had to have a life to have dreams of a better life.
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I don't have alot of people to talk to. Not alot of people are worth my time.
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No one ever found out what was happening inside me. How the pain was eating me away. No one ever came to my rescue, or stood up for me.
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Yeah, I loved her. I couldn't help it. She was my brother.
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Yet, when we talked, when we were together, she seemed so familiar. Seemed to know who I was, where I was coming from. She knew me better than I knew myself, I think. She was easy to be with. And I wanted to be with her, like all the time.
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That same piercing screech in her voice every time at the hospital. Do something! When I slit my wrists. Help her! The last time too. Somebody help her. Help us! You're helpless, both of you. All of us.
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I didn't tell him. And I never told her the whole truth. What would it matter? There was nothing she could do nothing anyone can do or will do.
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No one else knows I'm alive, which means they won't notice when I'm gone.
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Secrets. I can't take then with me. If I do, when I go, when I arrive at my final destination, I'll be . . . impure.
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I want to tell them, Chip, Kim, there is no way to suicide-proof a person.
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I got singled out. I don't know why. Why do people always target me? Is it because I'm short and they figure I can't fight back? They're right, I can't, but it's not because I'm vertically challenged.
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How does he do it? Live. With the fear of death every day. I don't fear death as much as I fear the thought of living.
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But I'm no hero. I had to keep my dirty little secret. The worst sin I committed was holding it in letting the secret blacken me.
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I think about my choice. Either outcome is bleak. If I stay and live through high school, go to college, get a job, what will ever change? This blackness inside will never go away. I don't make friends I'll always be alone. If I go, at least there's hope of peace. Chance of a new and better life on the other side.
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What will I become? Because I won't be me any longer. That will be a relief. I dont want to be the helpless person I've always been.
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