With Love

“Mom, I’m Sorry”

After listening to a mother and daughter duet, of what I'm pretty sure was Britney Spears’s entire discography within the span of a 20-minute car ride from inside the gentle confinements of a 14-year-old girl’s denim pocket.

Those were not the first words I expected to feel the lead from her pencil inscribe upon the starting page out of the hundreds attached to my spine. Coming from a child who from what I managed to hear, won 20-Thousand Dollars in cash at that, you’d really believe she be writing down something more positive inside me.

“I don’t want to be alive anymore.”

I’ve spent the past 7 months cooped up inside the bookshelf of that obnoxiously loud shop, fantasizing about the day someone laid their eyes upon the smooth darkness of my black cover and declared it to be love at first sight. For them to be so infatuated with the idea of watching the ink of their pens decorate my pages with scribbles so much, that I’d feel the warmth of their hands leave my body as they placed me on the cold counter and finally had the bravery to spend 12 dollars and 50 cents on me.

Never during those 7 months though did I ever take the time to imagine that after leaving that place, out of the thousands of ideas that I could be used for…

That I’d be placed with the task of holding the heavy sorrows of a 9th grader as she writes inside me, a suicide letter.

“ I promise I’m not doing this to hurt you, everything’s been going so well at home, especially after I won us all that money from the karaoke contest. Everything’s been great! We managed to pay the rent on time, I bought some new clothes for school and even this fancy little notebook today!... Despite it all, I don’t understand why I still feel so overwhelmed and empty inside...But I don’t want you to feel sad, mom...And even though he told you and Aunt Leslie I have a crush on that girl in 3rd period… I don’t want Michael to feel sad either… I love you guys I really do…”

You know, I assumed most girls this age when they got a hold of a journal they’d be writing about boy bands and things of that sort.

Hey kid can you hear me? You ever heard of NSYNC?

What do kids her age listen to nowadays? Hey, do you like BTS? I’ve heard they’re pretty cute, maybe you can write about them for a change?

“ Everything just hurts, I hate school! Everyone in school is so mean and the teachers are so unfair! I know you recommended buying a journal so I can keep track of my work and keep my grades up, but at this point, I could care less about dumb grades or even my classes. Oh my god even listening to Mr.Hendrick’s voice early in the morning is enough to put me in a bad mood throughout the whole day! Did you know he lied about me breaking MY OWN phone? I don’t care if I hit her first Sandra’s the one who ran off with it and started reading the texts I was sending to Hannah! In front of everyone! Those were ULTRA private!! Now everyone’s been calling me all these dirty slurs and my friends won’t even sit with me at lunch anymore!!”

So, she can’t hear me, huh.

I suppose the best I can do is provide a platform for her to express her feelings on…

I know you’re hurting, dear… I can feel it not only from how much pressure you’re putting on me as you write but also from the salty droplets that cause the ink from your pen to bleed on my pages…

You really need a better pen.

“ I don’t want to be responsible for the cluster of things I feel anymore…”

So let me be responsible for you.

Keep on exactly what you’re doing, you’re doing great. Tell me everything that happened, everything that you’re feeling. I will be your little black book of secrets, sweet child. Describe to me how it happened, how it all hurts, even if you truly do not mean the words you say, let me know exactly what it is that you’re feeling.

I won’t lie to you though. I originally wished I could’ve been used as a Bullet Journal for a nice mom or maybe even be that fancy little notebook that some detectives carry to jot down evidence they’ve found in a crime scene.

Man, I could’ve been cool.

But that’s okay. You know why? Because I wouldn’t wish to have any other owner during this moment but you. I am more than honored that you trust me enough to express such vulnerability and allow me to witness the darkest, messiest side of you that no one will ever see until they open this page.

“ I kind of wish I didn’t have to go… Maybe we could’ve even used the rest of the money to take a flight and go visit dad together. But there’s nothing I can do and nobody understands what I feel… I’d be really happy though if you, Aunt Leslie, and Michael went out to see Dad. I’m sure he misses us, he probably doesn’t mean to be so distant.”

You can pour out your heart and soul upon my skin until I am nothing more but a book of painful memories and I will not judge you. I wish you knew others wouldn’t judge you either...Yes, they may not understand at first but that doesn’t mean they don’t know you’re in pain...It doesn’t mean you can’t get better…

“ I feel useless, no one really cares.”

I care. Even if our first page together ends up being the only evidence showing we ever spent time with one another.

During these final moments, I am more than honored to say, that as you write your final words… I am also writing mines.

“Goodbye, Everyone… I’m now going to rest...”

Farewell, sweet child.

I hope you sleep well...I’ll miss seeing you tomorrow…

Good Night.

And to you my friend, who happened to stumble upon me. I don’t know if you’re also hurting. I don’t know if you can hear me, but just know…

That I may not understand but I care.

That it does get better.

And most of all.

That I love you and I’m proud of you for hanging in there.

I’ll see you in the morning. :)

With Love,

A Little Black Book.