My Life

To Live... or Not to Live that is the Question

Like a few of my friends, I've questioned about living. Sure, I know there are a bunch of other kids who have it a lot worse than I do, but there's a certain threshold that can crack... and for exactly 5 times, that threshold has cracked, leading me to do... well crazy things.

Let me back up a bit. When I was in elementary school, I went to over 6 elementary schools. Every year, I'd be packing up and moving again... and that's why I never bothered to make friends. See, when you're little, you need that social factor in your life. But since I wasn't able to have actual friends, I barely talked.

I was incredibly quiet and before I knew it, I enjoyed being alone. While everyone was outside playing, I would huddle in the corner with a book to read. Of course, since it was very... well odd behavior, my teachers would complain to my parents. I was forced to go into therapy for a while, but it didn't work. Why? Because you can't force someone to make friends. I wanted to tell my parents that I was ok, but my parents and I never had that father/mother son relationship. They didn't know or understand me at all.

It wasn't until middle school, I was finally able to make a friend... but that friend wasn't really a friend. He was nice, really nice, but what I failed to notice was that he was only nice so I could be a punching bag for him. In less than a week, I was being punched by a bunch of his friends whenever they found the chance to. It eventually stopped when a teacher caught them dragging me to the boy's restroom and they were suspended. 

And that was the first time I decided to stop living. As soon as they got back to school, they bullied me in a more stealthy manner (Including stabbing me with their mechanical pencils and beating me up on the way home. I got home, slipping past my parents, and did some research (how ironic ahahaha!) on how to take my own life. Of course, I didn't type in: How to kill yourself. I looked up suicide stories.

So what I found out was that if I wanted a painful death, drink highly toxic liquids (which was bleach for one, but also ink, Listerine mouth wash and amazingly enough, dish washer soap... like literally). So the first time, I drank bleach. I know, stupid, why would I want to kill myself painfully? It's because I never felt any emotions but happiness and loneliness. Luckily, I didn't drink enough to kill myself.

But... it was an amazing feeling. I never felt the feeling of interior pain... and I grew addicted to it. I started to do self harm... and because of that, it lead to my 2nd (Listerine), 3rd(Listerine), and 4th(Dish soap) attempt. I was doing so much self harm, I was sent to the hospital a couple times... especially with slitting my wrists. That's why, for the next few years, I wore long sleeved shirts, no matter how hot it was, to hide my wrists.

So... my 5th time? It was because of my parents. For a while, my parents were completely upset with my decisions, not making friends, my grades, my personality, etc. And after years of tolerating/ignoring me, they broke. They suddenly started beating me up, saying that I wasted so much of their money to support me, to pay for summer classes... and then verbally disowning me. They told me I was worthless, that I was stupid and that I shouldn't even exist. So after an hour, they finally gave it to me straight: "Chris (using my middle name for personal reasons), you should just die."

So... I did. I tried... but not after a few days to let the words sink in. In the end, I was tempted to do it. I grabbed everything, Listerine, bleach,  dish soap, and mixed it all together and drank it... and where did it land me? In the emergency room. Out of all the other times, this attempt was the most painful. In fact, the mixture sort of burned away some of my insides and I had to get it pumped out of me. After a few days, I was let out with a warning. The next time I did it again, drinking highly toxic stuff, I would die. Legit die.

So those are my suicide attempts. If you're wondering, I did have to go therapy for 3 years afterwards. Apparently my addiction to suicidal thoughts were somewhat a big factor about why I was always so... well reluctant to die so fast.  The therapist (different from the first one I had) decided to try to change my addiction. After a while, my addiction of suicide became an addiction to horror and blood... which is what makes me... well a twisted person. It's why I can smile while someone else is in intense pain... but of course I can control it.

As creepy as it seems, it became a part of me. It's the Chris that all my new friends know, but accept and I'm happy about that. Thank you... to everyone of my friends, whether I know or don't know you yet! Everyone is very supportive and I really can't thank everyone enough.

So that's why... until then, remember something that I wished someone said to the younger me a long time ago: stay awesome everyone.