I really feel like I don’t belong here. For awhile, I thought I was holding on for a purpose, but now I just feel like it is my time to go. I can’t hurt everyone who loves me. I promised myself I wouldn’t do that to them, they don’t deserve it. I was getting counseling, but I hated every second of it… I thought it would be hard to convince my therapist I was okay again, but it wasn’t… at all. The lies came so quickly, I know the perfect things to say. She believed me, every expression she gave was of utter joy. She believed me. She believed me. The feeling I got walking out of her office that day, i felt free. Even if I wasn’t “better” … someone believed I was. That was enough. Secretly I still starve, I throw up sometimes, and I occasionally cut. But those are my secrets, no one needs to know anymore. I hated having everyone worry. I hated disappointing my parents. I just want to be perfect. Everyone thinks I am better now, even though I have to go back to the therapist occasionally. My friends are thrilled, my parents relieved. There is one person who doesn’t believe any of it. She is my psychology teacher, the only adult I trust. I try lying to her, she knows I’m lying though, she wants me to tell the truth but she also understands when I refuse. She told me I’m strong, for never letting go of my smile. For never stop pretending I’m okay. But the truth is, I can’t stop. When I acknowledge my pain, other people get hurt. People become disappointed, scared, worried, angry. I like making others happy. Even if I am suffering, they don’t need to know it. I don’t know… I really don’t. My 17th birthday is at the end of April and sometimes I wonder if I will ever make it there.