I think I want to add myself to the statistics relating to "attempted suicide". I really do want to commit. But I don't think it's because I want to die. I don't think I'm ready to die just yet, not that I would complain if my attempt actually went through and became completed. I just want to fix everything. I feel like, if they see what all their fighting, and stupidity is doing, or has almost done, they might try to make everything better.
Maybe if I tried to kill myself, they'd notice me more. Care about me more. Maybe she would realize that her strict, overprotective rules are the reason we favour him. And she might figure out that parenting isn't all about yelling at your kids, but about loving them too. Maybe she'll suddenly see that she might've lost me permanently, and that might make her appreciate everything more. Or maybe it will actually work and I might actually die, and then maybe everything will just be easier for everyone.
He wants to take us to a family psychologist. As he puts it, "Our family is sick, we need help." I don't want to talk to a psychologist again. Not after last time. Last time was horrible. Going again will just remind everyone about what happened then. I don't know if that's the only reason I don't want to go though. Maybe I'm just afraid that the shrink will talk to me and figure out that I am the problem, that it's my fault our family is in pieces. Or if it isn't that, maybe he'll just see that theres something wrong with me period. That I may not be entirely to blame for the family situation, but that I am sick nonetheless, and that I need to be locked up in an asylum.
In the looney bin.
The crazy ward.
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