I was in seventh grade that day. March 5th, 1999. I remember the date because I

remember running home, running upstairs without talking to my 20 year old brother John, or my 17 year old sister Jennifer, and immediately writing it in my diary. I never knew or could understand why the girl did the thing she did, but I soon figured it out.

I left history class for a break to go to the bathroom, and I walked into the bathroom. When I was washing my hands, I heard choking sounds coming from one of the stalls. I was getting scared. I called out “Are you okay?” No response. So I asked again, and instead of an answer, Alice; the most gorgeous girl in the 8th grade steps out of a stall. I didn’t understand what was going on but I was too scared to ask so I ran out and into class as fast as I could.

Alice never came and spoke to me during the next two months of school, she never even noticed me, but I noticed her. And I figured out what had happened also. Alice was a bulimic! The gorgeous, Honors student was bulimic? I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. I swore to myself I would never do anything like that to harm myself. But little did I know how little control you have over it.

Now I’m writing to you on August 30th, 2003. A year since I have been let out of the hospital. Almost exactly two years since September 11th, 2001. I remember the day like yesterday. I had just started 9th grade a week before, and I was having the most amazing time! I was in all the highest classes and I found a great group of friends. Then the school dismissed us to the auditorium around 9 30 AM. We watched on the TV a clip of the planes hitting the second tower and then them collapsing. People all around me started crying. Before I knew it I was crying too. Then I realized, ‘AARON! JENNIFERS BOYFRIEND AARON WORKS IN THE WORLD TRADE CENTER!’ I ran out. Jennifer would be a mess. The beautiful blonde sister I looked up to for everything was going to be a mess. I ran home, only two blocks away. I didn’t see Jennifer’s car. Oh no, “maybe she drove to the city to find him” I said aloud to nobody. I walked in to find my mother crying to my dad in the kitchen. “Is Aaron okay?” I asked frantically. My mother replied” Yes, he is fine.” I asked why she was crying and sat down. My mother proceeded to tell me that my sister was with Aaron at his work. Apparently they became engaged last night, and they were going to call my parents from Aaron’s work to let them know. Then the plane hit. They were stuck his office room with continuous smoke coming in for an hour and a half till the two firemen pulled them both out, unconscious and brought them out. Jennifer never woke up.

When I heard this, I couldn’t believe it. I refused to believe it. I became a bit depressed, and did not go to school. Two weeks later I’m back in school and I’m ready to be the next Jennifer and to make my parents proud.

I kept up my grades, started wearing nicer outfits, and I was very nice to my parents. I didn’t want them to suffer too much. Things went well for a while, until my mom suggested I started straightening my hair, and my dad started yelling at me while teaching me to drive that I should be more like Jennifer, because Jennifer was a better driver than I was.

All of a sudden this imaginable amount of pressure was on top of me. I was miserable. So I started forcing myself not to eat, and then I started making myself throw up every time I did eat. I became very sick and was hospitalized.
My parents apologized for making me feel the way I did but it didn’t matter. It was too late. I was in the hospital! I would probably have cried if Jennifer had to see me like this.

So I write this, whether someone ends up reading this letter or not, as an open letter for others to read as a warning and to know that you should never do anything to hurt yourself. I regret it every day of my life. I wish I could have kept that swore I made that night on March 5th, 1999.