The Gift

I made it to thirteen years old...surprisingly. Everyday was special for me because it proved that I could make it one extra day. Life was very hard, especially for me. I suffer from severe depression and any day, could be the last. And right now, I had to deal with my parents coming into my room, any moment now, to come and sing me happy birthday, with their high-pitched, crackling voices.

I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I figured it was my parents so I hid under my blanket, covering my entire

face, hoping my parents would see and not come in. Even though I was so sure this wouldn't happen, I had to try.

I suddenly heard a creak in the door. My parents entered the room...unfortunately. I felt a light breeze come around my bed. It was my mother, about to wake me for my birthday surprise. Every year it was the same, I always got a small cake and a race car. I had my collection in the back of my closet, hidden in the dark, where the light never hits.

"Happy Birthday, Danny. Wake up, sleepyhead!" said my mother in a soft voice. I was so happy that she didn't sing. I "woke up" pretending like I had just woken up and not been awake all night. I woke up to a different surprise. This had never happened before. All I could see before me was a cake that said "Happy Birthday" and a.....diary. It was an orange diary WITH GLITTER! It was half beaten and it looked as if it had been used by a teenage cheerleader and then someone ripped the used pages out of it.

I was so confused why my parents didn't just stick to the regular race car gift because for once, I actually wanted it because this diary was a waste of time. My mom was the only one who knew a little bit of my depression. My dad usually stayed late at work, so he was rarely around. She didn't know I had depression and that it was severe, but she knew that I didn't interact with other kids, I rarely came down to the dining room to eat, and that sometimes I would skip school because I didn't want to be around other students. My mom just thought that I was just

being teased by some student at school. But either way, she never decided to go and confront anyone at the school, which was one of the things I didn't like about my mother.

Since my mom just assumed I was being bullied and I never spoke about it, she wanted me to write in the diary about my feelings and what went on in my life on a daily basis. I assumed she was not going to read it because she never really did anything to comfort me

or make me feel better about the "bullying". That was honestly the only thing I liked about the diary...that my mom was not going to read it...at least, I hoped.

For The Day I Die

I wrote in permanent marker on the cover of the dairy. I had no idea why I was actually writing in it but I was leaving it as a memory for the day I die. "For the day I die -Daniel Thomas" is what I wrote on the cover.

Life was horrible, and it didn't matter to me. I knew that my last day to live would come soon. I just didn't want to deal with the suffering anymore.

The inside of the notebook was full of a little amount of pages. Each page was sparkly,surrounded by

colorful stars. Clearly, this diary represented my life completely! Colorful and sparkly with stars....yeah, no. Here is what I wrote on the first page:

11.29.2017 INTRO

Hello there, whoever is reading this. My Name is Daniel Thomas. I have depression and its suveer. This will be my diary and I will right in it once a week. I dont know why U would reed this but OK.

P.S. I know im 13 but i dont know howta spell, OK. deel with it.

My mother wanted me to write in the diary everyday but, I'd rather not. My hand would get tired and I didn't want to be known as 'The Boy with the diary' at school or in my neighborhood.

A week past, and I decided to write in my diary again. I didn't really enjoy writing in it. But like I said before, it was for a memory for when I die.

12.06.2017

OK guys, I'm back. Did U miss me? lol probublee not. OK, ew, I don't know why I asked that. I'm literally acting like that one cheerleader who probably owned this diary before me. Today I skipped school because I didnt feel like going. My mom doesn't know i stayed home. But thats fine. ill just stey in my room all day. ttyl bye!

Change of Plans

I then started realizing that I was not writing anything interesting in my diary. If I died, what was anyone going to remember about me. Nothing special, if I kept going at the pace I am going now, with the diary. I decided to listen to my mother. I had to change the plan and write in my diary everyday, if I wanted anyone to remember me when I was dead. I decided to stay home everyday and not do, eat or think about anything. The only thing I was going to do for my non-long lasting life, was write in my diary. That's it.