14 again.

It's happening again, but this time I know I have the power and the knowledge to change things, to make sure the results don't end her in the hospital. But I'm afraid. I'm not a registered nurse or have much knowledge of mental disorders, but I've seen the damage it can do, and I'm fucking terrified. I don't want to go through that terror all over again, the hushes, the paranoia, the police men and the ambulance. No, not again. 

I have plans, multiple plans, anything, and if worse comes to worst I'll drop out of school. I won't send her back to that dark place, to the metal walls and solitude that she doesn't need. 

I don't know. I'm scared, I'm so fucking scared.

Two years forward.

I have no idea what to do with myself. Clean, clean, clean. I look at my pencils, and tell myself to draw, practice proportions and create, but I don't think I contain that ability anymore. At least not at this moment. My mouth keeps opening and then closing, eating for hours and then nothing at all for days. I've matured two years, but I can't confidently say it was worth it.

I kissed Mark for the very last time this morning.