things I'll never tell my therapist because I can't afford to have one

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⚠️ trigger warning: self harm and sewerside

As far as I could remember, I hated being alive.

At 7 year old, I tried getting hit by a car.
I was playing outside our house when I saw an incoming car and decided not to run from it.
I didn't. I waited for the car to collide with my body but it never happened. The car stopped and the driver got mad at me.

My mantra was always "sana mamatay nalang ako", and it's still is until now. I wish I were dead.

I've always tried drowning myself in the bath, tried suffocating myself with plastics or with my pillow. I always hit my head on the wall as hard as I could.

I started cutting myself when I was eleven. I didn't even know I've been harming my self ever since I was a kid until I was twelve and read about it here in Wattpad. Pinching myself, rubbing my feet together until  I'd get wounds, punching myself in head. I thought it was just a normal reaction whenever I feel bad.

I was a mommy's girl back then. But she left to work abroad. My sister and I got into a fight, and our dad sided with her. They ignored me the whole night and that made me feel so hurt and I didn't even know what I was doing until I found myself cutting myself using my brother's medicine cutter. I liked how the physical pain was stronger than the pain I was feeling inside. Ever since then, I'd do it every time I get hurt emotionally. Every time I missed my mom, every time my sister and I get into a fight, and every time I felt alone. Which was all the damn time.

I had cuts all over my body. Especially in places where people can't see. I used to do it on my arms but people started noticing. And then they called me an attention whore, so I started hiding it. I did it on my shoulders, my upper arms, my thighs, and on my belly. Until now, I still have some scars from it.

I don't know if I hid it really well that none of my family saw it or they just didn't care. I'm scared to find out the truth so I'd like to think I just hid it well.

At first it was all just cuts and bruises until I turned 14. My mom came back from work for good, and I've found out a lot of things I wish I never knew about.

I was never innocent, I have to be honest. I "dated" someone they didn't like. And it was against our religion to date too specially at a young age.

And I'm not trying to justify myself but that guy was all I had during those days. When I was alone in our house, he called me and talked to me for hours that I forgot about being scared and alone. He'd ask me how I was, and he made feel wanted and loved. He made me feel like I was worth something. That I wasn't a waste of space. He wanted me. He loved me. Until he didn't anymore.

So at 14, while my mom kept reminding me how she never wanted to have me in the first place, that I ruined her life by being alive, and at the same time the only person who made me feel wanted decided he didn't want me anymore, I tried taking my own life away.

At first, I drank some pills I found in a drawer but it turned out to be expired so it was useless. Second attempt, I bought medicine with the money I had. Didn't work out too, I just ended up puking my guts out. Third attempt, I tried Violet's way by cutting myself deep vertically. It wasn't deep enough because I'm still here writing about it but there was a lot of blood. I forgot how I got to my best friend's house but when I got there she took care of me. That's why I'll never forget about her and leave her side no matter what. Even if my family hates her. I love that bitch to death. She's my family.

So yes. I hated being alive and I hate being alive until now. Especially now that I don't have my father anymore.