It's too much.

Chapter Eight. The start.

It started with a crushed up pill.

4th grade.

I crushed up a pill perfectly, I put it in a nice straight line.

I didn't have any friends, no bad influences, no bad siblings, no one taught me it. I didn't watch YouTube videos, or play games with drugs.

Hell the only PS3 game I had was a fucking fairly odd parents game.

Yet here I was, my parents away on a trip, my brothers fast sleep after they watched over me cuz our parents were gone.

I rolled up a piece of paper, not to big or small, just the right size. I put my head down...

And snorted up the drugs. I don't remember how I got my hands on them, I don't remember what kind they were.

All I know is that I was gifted them. And I did them.

Again, no one taught me. And I didn't care, I could somehow crush up the pill into a nice fine powder. 5th grade was no different with drugs. But I did do a few edibles here and there.

Then at night, when my parents and brothers were asleep, I would get the sharpest object I could find, and guide it into my skin.

One.
Two.
Three.
Four.

Four soon turned into five. Then five soon turned into ten. I couldn't stop. I don't know what went through my mind.

You're not good enough.
You got pimples?! Jesus your fucking ugly!
I don't want you on my company wall! Your face is.. ugh.

Words are damaging. Words hurt.

To fat.
Not pretty enough.
You don't have clear skin.
Your above 100 pounds.
You have scars.

Life is hell. Punch, bite, scream, yell.

The daily for me in 5th grade. Go to school. Get bullied. Stand up for kids who were getting bullied. Get hated on, judged.

Why couldn't I just die?

Attempt one.

I was shaking in my new bathroom on 35th street. It's different from my old place. It's a actual house and not an apartment.

I held a bottle of pills in one hand and a razor blade in the other. One week at the new school and I was already getting bullied severally.

I didn't care. It was in the morning, my parents expected me to get up on my own and get myself ready.

I let out a sharp gasp as I took the blade to my wrist instead of the pill rout.

I cut deeper and deeper.

I didn't go to the hospital. I never did every time I tried to kill myself. I just... wanted to feel alive.

Wimp.

I threw it in the toilet in anger as I cried and flushed it. I wimped out. I wrapped my arm up and went to school just to get bullied all over again.