I Won't Be Invisible Forever.

Chapter One.

  I did it again today. I hurt myself. It was scarier than before though, because I did it differently. The wound wouldn't stop bleeding. There was no way I wanted to tell my parents. I kept it hidden as best as possible. I did what I always knew to do; I kept my arm in an upright position and applied pressure. I have cuts all up my forearm and wrist all the way up to my shoulders. I kept cutting, hoping that it would someday take my pain away. Why do I cut, you may ask. I'll tell you. My parents are split up. No, not divorced, just split up. I am a middle child. I have a younger brother and an older brother. I am always taken into consideration last. Why? I don't matter. Do I? Nope. I once told my family about my cutting and I showed them the wounds when I was in a rage, all they said was, "Okay."

  Friends, you ask? Well, I don't have any. I used to have one really religious friend, but when I told her I didn't believe in the Bible, I wasn't her friend anymore. Teachers? I don't have the guts to tell them. What do I do? Say, "I cut, my life is shit, and I need help."   No, that's just something you don't do. Well, something I don't do. People judge me all the time. I always have a black hoodie - with the hood up - on and jeans or sweats. That's all I ever wear. I obviously have multiple pairs, though. People will still judge me on that, but how I dress expresses how I feel. I'm always sad and depressed. I was hoping everything would change, but I knew that I was going to have to make it happen.   --   I got up for school the next morning, dreading what would happen that day. In my honest opinion, being completely ignored is a lot worse than being called names. Why? Well, because when you're called names, that proves that people notice you and that you're affecting their lives in some way. When you're ignored, it's like you don't exist and you don't matter. After I got ready, I walked to school. My stomach growled at me, reminding me that I skipped breakfast. As I walked into the building, I pulled my sleeves down, because I had only then realized that I had unknowingly rolled my sleeves up. I was trying to break out of the habit so people don't see my scars and wounds.   I put my head down and shook my head quickly to make my hair fall and hide my face. I wore my rainbow bracelet, letting people know I supported gay marriage. If they wanted to argue with me or fight me about it, I dared them to try. I plopped my bag down in front of my locker and transferred books from my bag to my locker that I didn't need for the first period class. Once I had everything organized, I walked to my first class - Math - and plunked myself down in one of the chairs. Everyone came storming in right before the bell rang, all talking and laughing with each other. The teacher taught the lesson, without picking on me once. That was the bright side to being an invisible girl. When the assignment was handed out though, I was missed. As usual. I was pretty used to it, I simply raise my hand and the teachers say they swear they gave me one. Of course, they just didn't want to admit the fact that they simply didn't see me or care about me. I completed the assignment and handed it in, making sure my arms and wrists were well hidden.   I went to my next class after the bell rang, not hesitating to dash out the door. I didn't need anything for my next class. I felt closer to my teacher in this class than any other. He just seemed more friendlier towards me. He ignored me too sometimes, just like everyone else. Mr. Kennedy was his name. I was the best student in his class. It was my Spanish class that I was taking - the higher level of it too - and I seemed to be the smartest person in that class. I think that's why he was friendlier with me, because I was a good student, I behaved and I got excellent marks. I was a straight A student. He would be the only person I would be open to about my situation. That didn't mean I wanted to approach him about it, though. We spent the class writing a paragraph on human rights, in Spanish of course. We were allowed to work in partners for this assignment, but I worked alone. Everyone in my class were best friends with each other and I had no one. Mr. Kennedy would always give me an apologetic look when I was by myself, but I couldn't bring myself to smile at him in thanks. It hurt too much to smile. I worked on my own.   When the period was over I sat there finishing my paragraph while everyone else filed out of the classroom. My teacher stayed and cleaned up the room. "Are you almost finished, Miss Kavalari?" he asked patiently. "Yeah, I'm just finishing up," I answered without making eye contact. I heard him putting textbooks away and I suddenly stopped writing and burst into tears. When Mr.Kennedy noticed, he came over to me and pulled a chair up to sit facing me. He placed a hand on my shoulder to comfort me. I covered my face with my hands, but made sure my wrists and arms were hidden with my hoodie's sleeves. "Desiree, what have you done?" he asked using my first name this time. I pulled my hands away from my face and looked at him confused. I couldn't see him fully due to the tears blurring my vision, so I couldn't see his facial expressions. I felt him grab my hands and yank my sleeves up. I yanked them back down. Apparently, they weren't hidden well enough. "Nothing happened," I said, obviously lying. "Desiree. Why are you hurting yourself? Talk to me. Let me help you." Normally, I would have snapped at him saying I didn't need help, but for some reason I didn't do that. I completely opened up to him. I told him everything. I was grateful the door was closed and no one else was in the room. I told him about my family, how I had no friends, I was always invisible, and how nobody cared about me. I pulled my sleeves up and explained how I had one cut for each time something bad happened, someone yelled at me because I had done something wrong, someone said something abusive to me, told me I was unwanted or whenever I was treated as invisible. He pulled me into a hug when I started crying more. I knew we didn't have any feelings of any sort for each other and I knew he was simply trying to comfort me, so I was fine with it. I mean, he was married for goodness sake! He pulled away from me once I had stopped crying a little bit. "What can I do to help you? I know the last thing you probably want is me getting other people involved. I promise I won't if you don't want me to." "Thank you, Mr. Kennedy. I appreciate that. I have no idea how you can help me. You can't make people care about me." "You know what? You're right. I can't. But you know what I can do?" he asked. I looked up at him with my sad eyes and asked, "What?" "I can show you that I care. I really do, Desiree. Starting tomorrow, every single day I want you to stay and talk to me after class. I will check your arms every day and I better not see any new scars or injuries. Okay?" "So, you'll be like my therapist?" I asked in a somewhat sarcastic tone. He gave me a look. "I'm sorry. I appreciate that you care. But you can't always check." "Why's that?" he asked. No, I didn't want to tell him. I did it anyway. "They-uh, kind of go up to my shoulders..." I said quietly. He gave me a sad look. "Wear a t-shirt and hoodie. Look, I just want to make sure you're okay. I don't want you to hurt yourself anymore. Promise me, Desiree. Promise me you'll stop, or at least try. I'll be here for you whenever you want to talk. I'll be in my office until 7PM, okay? Please?" he asked, sounding sincere. "Alright," I said softly. "Thank you for letting me help. Why don't you go have lunch?" he asked. "Okay," I said. I opened the door and started to walk out of the class but before walking out I turned around and said, "Thank you. For understanding and caring. I really mean that." He smiled at me before I turned and walked out of the class. All those times I had wished for my life to change, I guess my wishes were heard. This is the beginning of the change in my life. I couldn't wait for the final results.