Book for my feelings

Chapter ??

Dear whoever will listen,

I've gotten a lot better since I've wrote here, it took awhile but it happened.

....

That's what I would like to say. But it isn't the truth.
Sure, I've stopped harming myself in a knife way of things, but I've started tearing away at my fingers and biting my nails when I get nervous, I can't look into a mirror without spiraling into a deep depression. It feels like I've disconnected from my body to keep myself safe. Ever since my step dad left to go do work on the road I've started being less anxious, I'm relaxed and less aware than usual. Just a few weeks ago he couldn't talk to me without me breaking down and making my arms bleed from scratching my skin out of fear. Even though he's never hit me, I'm always flinching when he gets close. I feel like a test rabbit in a cage I can't escape from without harming myself. I'm going to a doctor for a shot soon, and it's just where all this started.

I got three shots that day, and went home. But awhile after I came downstairs to see my step dad seething in anger. He told me I was fifty pounds overweight. I was somewhere around eleven, so hearing this shattered my whole world. He yelled at me for hours, and when I cried, he told me my tears mean nothing. I can't remember my child hood all that well, but I bet it was bad. Now that I'm looking back on it it seems I had blocked it all off from myself in self defense. After that it took only a couple years to start plummeting like this. Now I'm going back to the place where it all started and I just know I'm going to break down again. I'm going to cry, I'm going to plead for my mom to not tell him that I cried, then start to spiral again. Bleed, cry, sleep, smile, repeat.

The appointments tomorrow. Yet I'm already starting to regret being alive. It's like my step-dad always said " I'm going to be the bane of your existence, you're going to regret you were ever born."  And I do, I really , really do Derrick. I hope you're happy now, because you ruined my life ever since you first called me fat at ten. I went to school, I cried, and I tattled to my friends. I came home and yet you told me to just forget about it and don't tell anyone. Then I started cutting, and what did you do ? You made fun of me! You Bastard. You never helped me - you fucking kicked me down until I did what I was told. I hope you're happy. Not.