I have a foot fetish.

It isn't a secret. I've gotten better about it over the years. I used to freak out (as in shove you onto the floor almost breaking your nose as I tackle you) when people put their feet near/on me/my stuff. When I was younger I would force all of my friends to wear socks in the house. (I told them it was for their safety). And even though I'm not as OCD about feet now, they still freak me out.

Like now. My foot hurts.

You can ask anyone. I have a lot of phobias. Blood is one of them. When we have Health at the end of the year I have to put my head in between my knees at times to keep from fainting/becoming hysterical.

So right now I am clutching my leg to my chest because my foot is asleep.

When I was nine my ex-grandmother bought be a book of "Who, What, When, Where, and How's". One of the "What's" was What happens when your foot "falls asleep"? The answer was that when your foot doesn't get enough blood you experience a brief tingling sensation as the blood forces it's way through a compacted space. Of course this is the one fact that has stuck with me over the years.

So there you go. Blood and feet. My worst nightmare.

Moving on (while I continue to hyperventilate).

Today has not been a good day. I had to excuse myself to go to the bathroom during third period because I was starting to cry. My math teacher seemed concerned. I'm going to have to thank him somehow for not getting upset when I spent fifteen minutes in the bathroom trying to gain control and missed half his lecture. And because he kindly ignored the fact that I was distracted and obviously texting throughout the rest of the period. I honestly considered asking him if I could visit the councilor, but I'm pretty sure she would call my parents if I told her everything.

Everything.

I'm the type of person who isn't going to lie to you if you ask them how they are.

I'm also the kind of person who isn't going to be blunt and just sit you down and tell you everything.

But I can tell you somethings.

My dad put an offer on another house this week. I love the house. It feels right. I'd have my own bathroom, something I've always wanted. And the finished basement would be all mine. But the whole reason I really want it is the stairwell.

In my room (maybe) there is door. It doesn't have a doorknob. It doesn't have a hole. You just have to squeeze your fingers in this little crack and remove the board. On the other side is a room. More like a tunnel really. The ceiling is about 3 1/2 feet tall, about 5 feet wide, and aprox. 10 feet long. This room is the stairwell.

I don't know why I love this so much. But it's almost like having a secret hideaway. there are stickers on the cement walls. I'm guessing that some kid about 7 or 8 once played under there.

I love the idea of passing things on. When I die I am going to will everything to a different person. It's like a part of you is moving on. Giving someone the same feeling you once had. Just like some 8 year old is giving me a room that may have once been used as a sekrit spy facility or a school for her stuffed animals. (The stickers are Barbie. Therefore I assume it was a girls room).

Moving on...

I want to talk to someone. She knows who she is. What happened in second left me shaking so hard I had to sit on my hands. I understand that maybe you don't want to talk about it. But that doesn't mean we can't talk. I have questions. You don't have to answer them. All I want is to make sure that this isn't some practice round. That you aren't working up to the big game. You know what I'm talking about. Suicide.

We all dabble in depression. When I experimented with cutting. Do you know what stopped me? I thought, "What if 20 years from now I found out that my daughter was a cutter? What would I do? What if my sister contemplated suicide? What happens then?"

People love you. Your mother, your father, your sister, your friends, heck even your teachers! And your right. Maybe we don't fully understand. Maybe we never will. But we aren't going to just leave you alone and act like nothing is wrong.

Life is full of cliché's. One of them is that when you fall people will always be there to catch you.

We can't catch you if you won't let us.

In conclusion...

I am thirsty. Nighty Night

~Emma