Tuesday, April 11th, 2000
Dear Diary,
The Day My World Fell, is my new name for this day. Today
everything changed, came crashing down around me, and is
quite difficult to fit together again. Today is my birthday, I’m 14.
I
should be out celebrating with my friends, scoping out guys or
watching our Hanson videos. But suddenly, I feel older than
them, which is weird considering I am the youngest of all of us.
And suddenly, wasting a precious afternoon to critique videos
and scream at a TV seems inevitably pointless.
Today, my world fell. My parents pulled the plug of reality,
announcing my sister’s problems with no emotion of their own.
They prance into the room and announce that my sister, who isn’t
even 16, is bulimic and depressed, possibly manic, and that she
needs help. Her help is the current priority in our home, so they
up and moved us all to the middle of nowhere, literally.
Today my world fell in another way, when my dad’s drinking
Friday, July 4th, 2002
Dear Diary,
I am, wow. I am just… in heaven. Ever since the day the I
told Zac about my… my dad, we have been even closer. But
today, today was something… something spectacular to say the
least. I swear, Zac has been ditching his family majorly in the
past month, wow has it only been one month. I guess that when
you are with a person every waking moment of every single day,
the time sort of stretches itself out and seems longer. For some
reason, imagining the time, just shy of one month ago, when
Zachary Hanson was a name in my memory, coexisting with
those of his brothers', under the code name: Hanson, Band- I get
lost, and wonder how I ever could have generalized his
individuality.
Okay, back to today. It was, a great day. Alright, from the
beginning:
I awoke this morning to the shrill ring of the cordless phone
next to me head. I had spent last night on the phone with Zac for
hours, just talking, and must have forgotten to put the phone
back on its charger.
So I answered the phone and it was none other than Zac
Hanson. The sound of his voice sends chills up my body, and I
picture him, the chocolatey brown eyes, the intense looks that he
gives off, and the joy that he radiates to the world. He really has
gotten better since we first met. He can even make me smile.
It was only 10:00, but Zac insisted that I get up and get
ready for a full day together. He had something special planned.
At 11:30am he picked me up, and instructed me to sit tight,
that this little car ride might take a while. It did, but at 1:00,
after
a McDonald’s pit stop, we had arrived safely in Lippin, Oklahoma.
*A.N.- Lippin, Oklahoma is a made up place. If it does exist well,
then I just didn’t know it! *
Lippin, Zac told me, was a place special in his heart. He
told me the story about how on the first day that Ike had his
license, they went on a drive, got lost and found this little town.
That had been when the three of them were close, and somehow
had managed a hilarious time, even though they were scared and
had no idea where they were. Well, as the story goes, they found
their way out of Lippin, and back to Tulsa, about five hours later.
Lippin is also where Zac tried to kill himself. We sat on a
hill, over looking a pool of water and the bright reflection of the
sun stared into our eyes. The conversation went something like
this:
“Look, Jill there’s something I want to tell you. I have never
told
this story to anyone, but I fell like I need to tell you. This is…
well, this
is where I tried to kill myself.”
I looked up at the scraggly tree leaning, almost bowing, over us.
A picture of Zac with a noose around his neck, a chair kicked out
from
under him, and his limp body, dangling there. I shook the thoughts
from my head, as Zac continued.
“It was one year ago exactly. I told my parents that I was going
up to Lippin to watch the fireworks with my girlfriend, my girlfriend
that
really didn’t exist. I sat up here, right on this hill. I had the
pistol in
hand, loaded and ready to go. I had gotten it from a friend, an old
friend. After all of the fireworks were over, I leaned back, and
prepared to shoot, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t shoot myself in
the
head; I just couldn’t do it. No matter how much I didn’t want to
live for
another day, I couldn’t shoot myself. So instead, I sat there, for
hours,
thinking about what would happen if I didn’t die, if I stayed alive,
and
attempted to survive the next three years. At 2:00 am, I decided it
was
either go home, or die. So I jumped over the hill, and purposely
knocked myself unconscious, as I rolled into the pond. I would have
died if Taylor hadn’t come along two minutes later and fished me out.
”
He inhaled a deep breath, and I thought I saw tears glistening in
the corners of his eyes. Maybe they were simply watering from the
bright sun.
“I didn’t want to live. I wanted to be dead, and no one
understood this. If death wasn’t a possibility I wanted… no I
needed
someone. Someone to listen to me, even when I wasn’t speaking, to
understand me, without everything having to be explained, to love me,
without ever asking why or needing a good reason. Then magically,
this person showed up, tumbled into my life. Four weeks ago, I
bumped into you in that hallway. I was grasping the end of my
rapidly
fraying rope, ready to let go, when suddenly, an angel came from
above and reached out for my hand, pulling me up, up, and onto a
safe, solid ledge of life. You were that angel. Jill, I don’t know
what I
would have done if you hadn’t shown up that day. I don’t think that
I
could have kept going. I just...I wanted you to know all that. I
needed
to tell you how much I love you, and how you have saved me.”
We leaned together, and talked for a while, anticipating the
bright explosions of color soon to come.
Here the conversation is basically over. But the night is
barely beginning. When we were talking I told him how much I
loved him, and how he had saved me. I also thanked him, for
being there when I most needed him to be, for letting me lean on
him, when I couldn’t sit up straight, for opening my eyes to the
world, when I had shut them tight. When the fireworks started,
he mumbled something. He said, “I love you, Jill,” and for some
reason I realized that our love was more than we had ever
expected. When the explosive balls of color went up that
evening, Zac and I were making fireworks of our own.
Me
Saturday, July 5th, 2002
Dear Diary,
I am really confused. What happened last night scared me.
Was I kissing him because he is the closest I have ever come to a
healthy, male relationship, or because I really like him like that?
What does his think happened? Should we be friends, or like,
lovers? I don’t know what to do. I have to talk to him.
Me
Same day, 10:00 pm
Dear Diary,
Today, I called Zac. We spent the day together, sorting
through our feelings, and trying to figure out if we are friends or
more than that, or what. Finally, about an hour ago, we declared
that it was best if we were just friends. Only friends. Then, five
minutes later, a strange moment came on, and we found
ourselves kissing again. What ever happened to being friends?
Oh, I guess we can just be friends tomorrow.
Me
Sunday, July 6th, 2002
Dear Diary,
We weren’t just friends today either, not that I mind, but, I
think that we should just admit that from now on, we would never
be ‘just friends.’
Me
Tuesday, July 8th, 2002
Dear Diary,
I don’t know if I told you this, but today, Amy comes home
from the hospital. I gotta go and clean up plus help my mom
make her this big dinner for her special home coming. I don’t
think that eating is exactly the best idea for a coming home party
for some one who was just in the hospital for an eating disorder,
but what do I know?
Me
Friday, July 11th, 2002
Dear Diary,
Amy hasn’t eaten one bite of food since she got home on
Tuesday. Mom and Dad are threatening to send her back to the
hospital, so she just threatens back, that she would never go
back there and I think that she might to something terrible if they
try to make her go back there.
Me
Sunday, July 13th, 2002
Dear Diary,
Oh my God. I don’t know what I am going to do. She, oh,
she, she’s gone. She’ll never come back.
Ammmmmmyyyyyy!!!!!! Oh God, I miss her already.
Me
Monday, July 15th, 2002
Dear Diary,
I am holed up here, in my dark and dreary room. I am in the
process of taking my acrylic paints and mixing them all together.
It makes this really dark, putrid, ugly, sad, alone, secluded,
scarred, scared, helpless, what! I am talking about me now.
Anyway, it makes this really dark ugly brown color, and I think I
have enough to cover all of my pale yellow walls.
I haven’t left my room since, well, since she did it. I use
only the bathroom connected to my room, to piss and to get
water. I haven’t eaten or slept and the last thing I want to do is
face the world. Where people are alive. But she isn’t.
I may as well come to grips with reality and tell you what
happened.
My parents had been threatening more and more to take her
to the hospital. They finally got her a room, and told her that she
was going tomorrow (which means that she would go in today,
considering that this happened yesterday). She said she refused
that she would never go back there, that they were mean to her
and made her eat. So she ran off, down to the brook. I ran after
her, and considering her condition, was able to easily catch up to
her. She just stood there. Her eyes were glazed over, and when I
grabbed her arm and dug my nails into the chunk of skin and
bones, she didn’t even flinch. Like she knew it was over. She
was in her own little world, when she suddenly spoke.
“Jill, you know what you have to do. Take care of mom, and
don’t let dad push you over the edge the way he did to me.”
“What are you talking about Amy?” I argued. She wasn’t
making any sense.
“Be sure to help Andy, he’ll need it.” What the hell did out
little brother have to do with this?
“Stay perfect, Jillian. You’re perfect.” She removed to .44
pistol from the right pocket of her jeans, and steadied it next to
her head. The surprise I had, kept me glued in place, as she
gripped the gun, and pulled the trigger.
I could have saved her. I could have, and I didn’t. I am such
a horrible person. Zac will NEVER want to see me again.
Me
Wednesday, July 17th, 2002
Dear Diary,
After four days of never leaving my room and almost a week
of not talking to Zac, he got sick of my mom saying that I was
‘extremely busy.’ What he did surprised me. He just came over.
I was just putting the finishing touches on my wonderful artwork
that really looked like puke on a wall, when he stuck a toothpick
in the doorknob and let himself in. He forced me to sit down, and
tell him the entire story. And just like the time I told him about
my
dad, I started slowly and ended up spilling the whole thing out in
un-audible tones and phrases.
When I got to the part about how I could have saved her,
stopped her, and made her still be alive today, he took me into his
arms, and then onto his lap, and talked soothingly while he
rocked me and stroked my face.
He told me how if she wanted to die, I might have been able
to stop her that day, but that another time, I wouldn’t be able to
save her from the inevitable. I couldn’t always be there to catch
her when she fell.
It was today that I realized how very much I love him. He
makes me happy when I am sad, and helps me, when no one else
does. He saved me today, and unlike me for my sister, he would
always be there to catch me if I fell. Or at least to pick up the
pieces and glue them back together again.
Mrs. Zac Hanson
Mrs. Jillian Hanson
Mr. and Mrs. Zachary Hanson
Tuesday, July 23rd, 2002
Dear Diary,
It’s been a while, because I decided not to write again until
things started to look up some more. You missed Amy’s funeral.
I gave the eulogy. It was beautiful. Her casket was black, and
white roses were everywhere. I still miss her.
Okay, looking up. I have started smiling more. And started
to hang out with Zac again like we used to. He understands me
so much. Thank you god, for allowing me the chance to be
touched by the heart of Zac Hanson.
Me
Friday, July 26th, 2002
Dear Diary,
Slowly but surely, as the saying goes, I make my way along
the charted course to freedom. Or at least freedom from my guilt
and loneliness. It’s funny, you know. Amy and I weren’t even all
that close, yet I miss her profusely. She would have gone to
college back in NYC, and I probably wouldn’t have missed her
one bit, hell I would have been glad that she was gone, but now,
it’s like I am wasting my life grieving for a sister who never cared
one moment in her life about someone other than Amy Christina
Buroughs.
My psychologist says that I am getting better each day.
She helps me through what she calls the grieving process. I call
it Hell and a half. Oh well, I’ll make it now, the doc says only
one
more week of steady visits, than my regular once a month things.
Me
Monday, July 29th, 2002
Dear Diary,
Today was my last day of psychotherapy. My doc says I
don’t have to come in next month, considering that I have been
there over a dozen times in the month just past.
Zac and I are doing better. I am no longer afraid of people,
afraid of life. I still see her in my dreams quite regularly, about
twice a week, but it’s becoming less and less. Sometimes, I’m
not thinking about her, and sometimes I’m not feeling guilty
about it. Sometimes I am actually happy.
Me
Friday, August 2nd, 2002
Dear Diary,
I have a slight problem. Well, more than slight, but let me
start from the beginning. Ever since the fourth of July, Zac and I
simply gave up the idea of being friends. I think I knew, from the
very start of our friendship, that just being friends wasn’t enough
for us. Basically, for the past month or so, I have been very
happy with him. No, we aren’t always making out, sometimes we
just cuddle together and watch a movie or talk, and… it’s great. I
love him more than anything on earth, and don’t know what I
would do if I lost him. We still have that great understanding,
that
connection that we always have had. I think that being friends
helped us to be better lovers.
Anyway, the real problem. I just got this letter in the mail
from this foreign exchange program that I signed up for. It was
months ago, before I had so much as seen Zac, and I had applied
for the program and sent in my essay. I knew it was just a far off
hope, but you never know.
So, today, I got a letter back that says that I am accepted
into the program. I want more than anything to be able to jump
up and down, and write back saying that I accept and pack all my
stuff up and run out the door, but I can’t. Cause I want more than
anything to stay with Zac, to have things be the same way
forever, to love him for the rest of my days, but I can’t. I need
to
talk to him about it. Oh… I just don’t know how to explain it.
This
is one of the times that I am glad for our friendship. Really glad.
Me
Same day, 11:30 pm
Dear Diary,
I told Zac, after thinking some more about my decision. The
conversation went something like this.
“Zac, I have something to tell you. Um, you see, there’s this
thing. In February, I applied for this foreign exchange student
thing.
It’s where you go and spend a year of high school in Europe. I know
French and Spanish so, it wouldn’t matter where I went, cause Madrid
and Paris are the only two locations. Anyway, you go to Europe for
a
school year, and then can backpack through the summer. I am telling
you all of this, cause I got accepted. They accepted me.”
“What you, you’re going away. You’re leaving me?”
“Zac, I don’t want to,”
“Then don’t” he interrupted me.
“but I have to. I need this experience.” He was acting childish
and selfish, but then again, so was I.
“Where are you going? When do you leave? How long will you
be gone?”
“I, I don’t find out where I go till I get there, if I say yes. But
if I go
I will leave in one week. I won’t be back until either next June or
next
September.”
“But, that is almost a year. I love you Jill. And I was just
starting
to get to know you, to get comfortable with where we are. I was
just
starting to fall in love with you.”
Tears streamed rapidly down my face, and I held back sobs, and
smiled through them.
“You love me. You’re IN love with me?”
“Yes… I love you, more than anything.” The confidence in his
voice was one that I had rarely heard before.
“I love you too. I am IN love with you too. But, I now love
myself, and I can’t stay here, I can’t stay in Tulsa forever. Not
with my
dad, with my sister, I, I just can’t. You understand, don’t you?”
“Yes, but. Why, I mean can you tell me that?”
I took a deep breath and forced myself to go on. "When I was in,
like, the 6th grade, my class went to the Science Museum in
Oklahoma City. We saw this movie in the Omni-theater all about
travels. I had never been any where more exotic than my good old
home state, and became immediately fascinated by the images on the
screen, all of them completely new to me. And that day, a small,
shy
12 year old girl made a promise to herself. I promised that one day,
I
would go to all of these places, get out of Tulsa and see the rest of
the
world, explore these new worlds, new chances and new experiences.
I promised myself that this was the one thing that I had to do in my
life.
I have the chance now. The opportunity to fulfill my existence on
this
earth is knocking on my door, and all I have to do is open it.
Accept
this chance...
"I don't know if anything like this will ever come up again. This
may very well be the only chance I have to follow through with my
promise to myself. I have to take it. I have to."
But now, as I sit, contemplating what he gave as his answer,
my nervousness leaves me, and I know the truth.
The truth that he would be there no matter how many miles I
travele; the truth that he would be behind me, no matter what
decision I would have to make; the truth that he would love me,
no matter where in the world I was, or how long I stayed away.
And the truth that the same truth existed for me. I would go,
travel the world, see the sights, learn the culture, and experience
life to the fullest, and then, I would come home, and live life with
my best friend, my confidant, my everything.
Me
Yours truly,
Jillian Buroughs Hanson
*All poems and songs, not to mention the story itself is copywrited
to
me!
Epilogue- The idea for this story, like all others, came from my
head.
If you feel that I have offended you, or you would just like to give
me
your positive and/or negative comments and/or questions, please e-
mail me. I highly appreciate any replies to my stories and read
each
and every one of them as well as respond personally.
If you enjoyed this story, I suggest to you that you read my other
two stories: “Torn,” and “Pictures” Thank you for reading my story.
