Abington High School Student Arts Magazine 2015-2016 | Page 47

dance in the shower kids, no matter how much you want to unleash your inner Michael Jackson, you’ll hurt yourself. I most likely have a concussion, but I can’t get it looked at because I am not allowed to leave this hotel room unless I am getting a soda or any type of drink from the machine across the hall. Did I even write that rule down? I honestly can’t remember much before I fell. The only thing I can remember was my last meal and how good some chicken nuggets would be right now.

My report on today: Hungry, like I am in pain. Please get me some food.

January 4, 1999

I can’t do this much longer. I almost forgot to write today because I was too busy focusing on the sound of my stomach growling at me. The only things I know how to do are write and cry because of the pain in my head.

I don’t know why I told myself to do this experiment. Oh god, why would I do this to myself? Everything just looks so edible, the bed looks edible, and so does the pillow… And so does my arm, and my leg. I wonder what human meat tastes like… Dear lord, what am I thinking. I completely locked myself in this room, no drinks, no nothing. I just locked myself in this room, thinking I cut off everything edible, but I forgot one thing. I’m edible. Oh my god, I never thought I would say this, but my new challenge in this experiment, not eating myself. Please send help.

I need help…

My report on today: Please… I need help.

January 5. 1999

If it wasn’t for this journal, I would have no idea what day it was because the only things I know are hunger, pain, writing, and dehydration

Let’s start off with this day that I’ve had. Well, I fell again, I tripped over myself and fell on my arm. Let’s just say that I think my left wrist is shattered. Thank god I’m a righty. However, when I fell, I’m pretty sure that I made my concussion worse, I didn’t think my head could hurt any more than it did before, but oh my lord does it hurt now. It was just throbbing before, now it’s throbbing, burning, stinging. It hurts so much I’m not sure how much longer I can put up with this. The only noise I listen to know is my stomach, I no longer watch the television. Everyone just seems so happy on those shows, but I’m not happy now. I’m the opposite. I’m miserable.

I’m done writing for tonight, I really am. I don’t even want to write a report on this day but I have to.

My report on today: I can’t take this much longer. (continued on next page)

Chris Doucette, 2016

Silver Key, Photography

Scholastic Art Awards

THE ROTTEN PUMPKIN