Mid-July, and I'm sorry to say I'm doing just as poorly as before, if not more so. You told me to email you if i needed to vent, and I find that I can't even do that; I feel I need an excuse to contact you, because why would you want to hear from a downer like me? The sad part is, I know you wouldn't ever think that about me, and you are only concerned. It's me though; it has always been my fault, you know, this kind of thing. I get down on myself enough times, and eventually I come to believe the horrid slander that seemingly constantly occupies my mind is truth. Honest to god, I believe it with all my heart. That is why I can't bring myself to dump more burden onto anyone else's shoulders, even if it means prolonging my life.
I know you wouldn't like to hear that either. You've always contested my view of myself, even when it was unintentional on my part to reveal such to you, and said how I was such a clever girl. Yeah, easy to appear clever in a class of seriously average, mildly dim-witted teenagers whose deepest thoughts pan out to be what their plans for this weekend are and how they hate their ex-boyfriend/girlfriend, or how they got so drunk last weekend. I also know that most of these kids respected me, at least in the setting of our loud, sometimes haphazard english class, and did look to me as the voice of reason at times. The truth is, your class is the only one I liked, despite a few crying episodes from the back corner and some seriously scarcastic remarks. I think you know that though, because I never made it a secret that I loved english, only that I loved the class as well.
Looking back on the past year, I can't imagine how you could ever consider me to be a smart girl. Honestly, I'm throwing my life away, and I can't say depression is a valid excuse for such. I'm imfamous, we both know it. It's funny, really. Everyone comes to me with their stories of weekend exploits, because surely everyone knows about my suspensions, not to mention trouble with the law. The sad thing is, I haven't stopped, or slowed. No, see, the way I figure, I'm not going to make it past age 20 (at the oldest). I'm never going to make it to an age where what I do is acceptable, if that even exists, so I might as well live while I can. As you said, some people can afford to lose brain cells, and some people cannot. Despite that, I know that my actions just add to my pending downfall.
I've been put on, and taken myself off of, an antidepressant already. I just didn't feel like me on it, and I know you would understand what I mean when I say that. Yes, I remember the conversation we had about feeding depression, and I know I must play right into it. And yet, I find myself thinking about death constantly. The medicine didn't help that; in actuality, it just made me consider it more seriously. I know what you would say, that this gets better, that once I get out of high school and make it into the real world things will be right for me, and that other people have made it out of this too. The problem is, I just don't see myself being strong enough to bear this much longer. I'm weak, and I hurt the people who love me. Most people never change, and I don't see myself as one of the exceptions to any extent. I know talking to you would help, but I really can't bring myself to contact you.
I hope your summer is going smoothly, and am still grateful for your encouragement to send me into honors next year. English my only non-honors last year, and it wasn't because I didn't have the grade to get into honors; in a self-typical way, I happily contributed to my under accheving. Despite that, I am so grateful to have been a student under your direction, and wouldn't change my decision to be in English II for any dollar amount or bribery of illicit substances. That was the most painful thing, really, how you knew I could be such an amazing student, yet I failed to even attempt it. I missed handing in major projects, inculding the midterm, and came to your class more than a few times mentally altered. You knew that; I don't think you were angry either. I just want to make you aware that I understand how my self-sabatoge hurt you and that I am so infinitely sorry for it.
If I don't make it, I hope someone recognizes my letter and directs you to it. I know, apon reading it, one person who would probably know not only who I am, but who I am refering to as "English Teacher," and I know she would give this to you if I asked her to. If not, I could always mention it in my suicide note, simply to bring it to her attention, and she would follow through for me. I would hope that this wouldn't hurt you more, and that you could some how understand what I mean when I say that I can't continue on in this manner. I know you wouldn't be angry at me, and if at all, only at a wasted life and possible future interrupted. Please, forgive me and this. I know this may all seem heavy, so I'm sorry, but I just had to let you know how I feel.
Thanks for crossing the teacher-student boundries and trying to reach out to me, because it really did help. You were an amazing teacher, and despite anything anyone might say or what you might think, you're not a "soft" teacher. It was a joy to be your student, and you taught me some things I don't think I'll ever forget. Thank you for all you've done.
