Thoughts

Growing Up

I remember when I was little, I was the happiest kid in my neighborhood. I would always smile and laugh, I remember how proud my parents were that they raised such a happy and uplifting child. I loved life, I didn't care about what others thought, I only cared about my family and when I was going to play outside again. I would wake up happy and full of life, but as time went on, my smile slowly faded, I grew up with a voice in the back of my head. But one day, I don't exactly know why, but I started to believe that voice.

I became insecure, when I looked in the mirror, I hated what I saw. It was in fifth grade when I started believing I was fat and ugly, just plain awful in every way physically. But, I faked a smile, I was polite to everyone to try and cover up the fact that I was dying on the inside. As the years went on and I entered seventh grade, I started to realize how different I was compared to the others, not so much physically, but mentally.

When I was younger, I had excellent grades, I was smarter than most kids, I wonder what happened. I got more stressed out as the years went on, my parents were pressuring me to be better. I felt ashamed that I started getting C's and B's,I hated it. I was so stressed, it got to the point where I came home crying every day because school made me feel stupid. As time went on,  my grades were slipping, my smile was fading, and I started to just let go of myself.

I stopped wearing all of those nice and bright outfits, and I started wearing black clothes, and a bunch of band shirts. I stopped hiding my smile, my parents suspected something was wrong, I was a freshman at the time. I lost myself in the music, music became my escape. I loved it, it was the only thing keeping me sane. I was judged constantly by the other people in my grade, I was called many things, mainly "freak" or "emo". I didn't care about any of that, well at least that's what I told myself.

I started losing sleep, I'd stay up all night, my thoughts kept me up. That voice became even more strong and powerful, I tried to fight it, I really did, I guess I couldn't though, the bullying and those thoughts were enough. I broke, I wish that I didn't, but I did. It was sophomore year when I first self harmed. I don't know why I did it, but in some weird way, it felt amazing. The feeling of the razor running across my skin was beautiful in it's own twisted way.

Looking back on it now, I regret everything, especially that day. I knew that I shouldn't have cut, but I did. It was really hard trying to hide it from my parents, but I found ways. I started wearing long sleeved shirts all the time, and if my parents started getting suspicious, I would just wear my rubber bracelets. I went to school every day dreading to come back home, to lock myself in my room and just never come out.