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Before I begin my rant, so you're not lost, I have something to say. I have what some people would call a "gift" that lets me be more open to seeing ghosts. Call me schizo if you want, my parents already have been for five years. It's nothing new. If you're one of the people who just wants to shut me up and shove a pill down my throat, leave now.

All right, beginning my rant/story. This story begins in the summer of 2005, when the ability began to fully come out. Before it was just flashes of "something" watching me. And now, I'll start.

We moved into this house in 2003. November 1, to be exact. The Mexican Christian community was celebrating Day of the Dead. That ma have been an omen, I don't really know. The summer of 2005 was surreal. It felt instant and also eternal. It was enlightenment, the afterlife, "heaven on earth". Then during the nights, I would hear voices from outside. I figured it was the neighbors and I tried to tune it out. But then it got much more than voices. People could call my name, clearly, when there was nobody around. It was my birth name- Caitlyn- at first,then it was my name, Lena. Lena is the name I hose for myself, the one that fits me in every was but the way it translates. Angels aren't like me. I stated seeing the ghosts, and hearing them more and more, every night. It was scaring me, because I got the worst feeling from them. I knew they wanted to hurt me, and they have, but I didn't, and still don't know why. I saw shadow figures, wearing trenchcoats and hats with these piercing blue eyes. I told my mom about it, because for god's sake, I was ten. I had no way of knowing what would happen.
Well, it got worse until summer ended. Then it was pretty calm. Then came January '06, which is when Earthly troubles flared up.
My mom took me to a psychiartist [sorry, I can't spell]. She's gone through my room and found a notebook where I wrote down all the things I saw. She stared at me all desperately, and she goes "Caitlyn? Is this just some story you're writing?".
And I become a naive idiot and answer no. The shrink say's I'm OCD and I got to take these pills to get better. He puts me on this anti-depressant, Lexapro. I'm a good girl and take the pills. The "gift" doesn't go away, of course.
Skip to March/April '06. Then I'm in another shrink's office, a woman this time. She gives me these blue pills that start with a C or a G, I don't remember. I take one, and I sleep. Not just all night, I am literally so tired that I can't even get off the couch- I slept on the couch then, because the ghosts hang out in my room- for around a month. Don't eat, because I can't stay awake long enough. I lost something like 5 pounds. I'm here in puberty, supposed to be gaining weight and here I am loosing it. That was with just one pill. I'm pulled out of school, "for my own good". I've been homeschooled ever since.
Skip to early 2007. I'm with another shrink, another woman. She says I have autisim.
Cut to the summer of 2007. It's sometime in early August. My mom is in a bad mood,so of course it's being taken out on me. Since Emma died, she'd taken all her moods out on me. So anyway, she threw a wire hanger at me and she was yelling at me. "You'll have to be a prostitute when you move out because you'll never be smart enough to do anything else!". I still remember that, clearly. Later, still in August, my sister leaves her shoes in my room after snooping around. I toss them out the door and guess what. My sister's walking by. She runs to mom, "Caitlyn threw shoes at me!". My mom drags me by the arm to my room, and she takes off one of her spikes shoes and says "Lets see how you like it!". She throws it and misses me by not much and it breakes my window. She tells my dad that I did it. That was also the summer I started to cut, tried suicide, and played around with anorexia.
Cut to 2009. The ghosts haven't been around this strongly since 2005, and I'm scared. There's nobody I can tell. I keep it all inside and it's killing me. My mom hates emotions, except when they're Vanessa's or hers. She tells me to never show any emotion round her, it's gotten to the point where I really can't cry, not even when I'm in pain. I don't want to hold it inside forever,so I'm writing it down. Most likely, nobody will care. But it's nice holding on to the hope that someone will. I've never had a friend, not really. I can't tell them any of this. They kept me from insanity a million times, and I can't even say thank-you because they won't believe me. If you don't, fine. But now it's not all inside.
The funny thing is, I confronted my mom with all the lies she's told about me. She didn't remember a thing, even when I showed her a scar she gave me.
There will probably be another entry with my demented thoughts in it later. I didn't put them in this one because I've dug up enough bad memories for now.