The Scarred Luna (On Hold)

Hate

First, I would like to apologize for those of you who thought this was an update, it's not. I am here to confess. No, I do not believe my readers should know everything about my personal life, but I believe that you all deserve a reason for having no update for three months.

So, I have slipped up.

Yes, I was clean for a whole two years. Two years. I was doing very well in coping with my depression and suicidal thoughts by diving into my school work and thinking of nothing but school and homework and exams. However, as the school year went on, my homework lessened in quantity. At first, I was relieved that I no longer had three to four hours of homework a night, but, of course, with the free time came time to think bad thoughts.

I soon became depressed. I wouldn't go as far to say severely depressed, but depressed enough. I didn't want to be at school, at home, at the softball fields: anywhere. If I was at school, I didn't want to go home and if I was at home, I didn't want to go to school. It was a never ending cycle of being unwilling to do anything.

Now, in my story, I have clarified that Journey's mother has passed. My mother is still very much alive. Though my mother is alive and well, we do not get along...at all. We are at each other's throats 24/7. Anyway, she is very adamant about me getting good grades. She never went to college and my sister didn't either. I'm the redo child. I'm the child that she has all her hopes and dreams riding on. The thing is, being the redo child is hard.

I am afraid of doing something that might legitimately disappoint her or my father, who, of course, is Indian. Having two, all-seeing, looming parents is quite difficult. My father is in another state, yet he somehow knows everything. Not the point. The point is, when you have a mother that is constantly nagging, yelling, and screaming, you become very tired very quickly.

I have had the reputation of having anger issues, so, naturally, I became very angry. When I say angry, I mean completely and utterly fucking crazy. Of course, I couldn't harm anyone, so guess what I did. Instead of harming another being, I decided to harm myself instead.

I bled that night.

Yes, I cut myself.

I am not proud of what I did and I haven't done it since. I have actually been debating whether or not I should tell my mother of my past activities. Will I? Probably not. Again, not the point.

I just wanted to get that out there. The reason I haven't been updating is because, no matter how collected I seem on here, I am truly just a fucking wreck. I want to cry, but no tears will come. I asked for a therapist and my mother laughed in my face. I want to scream, but it's as if I have no voice. I tell people my true feelings and they leave. At times, I want to even kill myself.

I want help.

I want help.

I want help.

Someone...help me.