My birthday is smack dab in the middle of the year. It was hard to have birthday parties that involved my classmates but we made it work for a few years. For the latter half of elementary school I had big birthday parties at this park with a well sized swimming pool. They were great and I am grateful for them. My favorite ways to celebrate the summer were cook outs and the beach.
One year a classmate gifted me some Harry Potter paraphernalia. There was a towel, stickers, and a burgundy journal with an image of Platform 9 3/4 on the front. I wrote about a lot in that marbled Gryffindor colored book. Song lyrics, poems, journal entries, pictures, erotica.
Specifically, there's a record of what I would call my first existential-depressive episode and the beginning of my suicidal ideations. I had grown tired of how repetitive and mundane life felt. I remember thinking about how underwhelming the school routine was and was annoyed that life would continue that way for at least the next 7 years. It seemed like an eternity then. If that was all life had to offer then I much rather had died than suffer the boredom and disappointment. I was only like 9 or 10 when I wrote about it.
Back then, I made the rookie mistake of just leaving things like journals around for anyone to read. At some point, my mother read that page. I know because one day while I was getting in trouble for something else she referenced it. I was horrified. Since then, I kept my dark confessions in my mind. Until now.