I stare at my reflection in the mirror,
why am I doing this to myself?
Losing my mind on a tiny era,
I nearly left the real me on the shelf...
No no no no
Don't lose who you are,
in the blow of the stars,
seeing is deceiving, dreaming is believing... It's OK not to be OK
Sometimes it's hard...
To follow your heart,
but tears to mean you're losing, everybody's bruising...
Just be true to who you are
No no no no no no no
Brushing my hair, do I look perfect?
I forgot what to do to fit the mold,
the more I try the less it's working, cause everything inside me
screams no no no no no no no no no
Don't lose who you are,
in the blow of the stars,
seeing is deceiving, dreaming is believing... It's OK not to be OK
Sometimes it's hard...
To follow your heart,
but tears to mean you're losing, everybody's bruising...
Just be true to who you are
Yes, no's, egos,
Fake shows like whoa...
Just go and leave me alone,
real talk, real life real love good night... And with a smile that's my home that's my home
Don't lose who you are,
in the blow of the stars,
seeing is deceiving, dreaming is believing... It's OK not to be OK
Sometimes it's hard...
To follow your heart,
but tears to mean you're losing, everybody's bruising...
Just be true to who you are
When I was seven, I skipped a grade. It was the hardest thing Ive ever done, it was really hard on my social life because I was younger than everyone, so no I want to be friends with me. I also had trouble making friends because my mom work that where I went to school, and they called me a snitch. One of the bad things about having a parent as a teacher is that you spend most of your day in school... Not just in your classroom learning, but also in your parents classroom... Reading books, playing games, just sitting... Sometimes strange male teachers come in... It's the worst thing ever. Losing innocent at only seven years old. You don't know anything about that kind of stuff back then, but those men will show you, if it's the last thing they do.
When I was 9, right around the time I started making friends, I moved schools. I went from a public school to a private school was also hard. All of the kids were more privileged than me. Snobby, ridiculous. My sister, she's about 2 years older than me, one of her best friends took advantage of me. She still doesn't know to this day. Six years later.
People always wonder why am so obsessed with nature, why like the birds and the bugs and the plants and all the animals. But I don't think they ever realized that, when you're a kid that's grown up with no friends, imagination takes hold of you. The birds and the bees and the flies and the snakes and spiders become your friends. I used to think of myself as Jane and the giant peach, except there was no peach. And the evil aunts for my parents.
When I turn 10, we moved again. We move far away this time. Where we used to live is eight hours away from where we live now. When we moved again, I had to start all over. People ask me why am so shy, because I don't know if they realize this, but when you grow up like me, with no friends, no best friend, you don't really get confidence. There's no self-esteem, there's no one to help you up when you fall down. The people who don't know how to rely on themselves, they turn into dust. They're lost in the wind, and those people who have low self-esteem eventually becomes suicidal.
When I was 11 years old, my parents had a fight. A fight big enough to split them up for half a year. They never got divorced, but my dad stayed where we used to live and me and my mom and my sister and my newborn brother, we moved down to where we used to live. Eight hours away. Where I used to live, there were new kids; it seemed like everyone I knew forgot about me. Everyone already had their best friend in the close friend, I was just the new the new girls all over again. That's the worst part; when you know them but they forget about you. Eventually my parents got back together.
Around the same time, I had started to develop more, I started puberty. I grew breasts, and it was the worst. I was the most developed girl in my class. Along with that, I began to gain weight. I felt awful about myself. I wanted to stop eating so bad, I wanted anorexia, but I loved food too much so I just gained the weight.
A year later, seventh grade. The worst time of my life. I was bullied so bad. It seems so stupid now, the bullies only did it because I couldn't have a Facebook and I couldn't hang out with anyone and I couldn't date and I cried if I got anything less than an A. My parents were really really strict, quite overbearing. Three years later I still can't have a Facebook and I'm still not allowed to hang out with friends and I still can't date. I never told anyone about my problems, so they never got better. I even started self harming, until eventually- you probably knows where this is going- self harming was not enough. I tried to kill myself. It didn't work, obviously. I'm kind of glad it didn't, because then I would've never met my friends now, I would've never realized that not everyone is bad. That not everyone wants to torture you, hurt you. After I tried to kill myself, I moved schools. Almost none of the kids know that this is ever happened. Only a very few know.
Things were looking up as I reached high school. I had always been a good student, I got great grades, now I had a social life to go with it. Although I was still not allowed to hang out with friends, I had friends so... it didn't really matter. In the middle of ninth grade, I guess-I've always had OCD, but I guess this is when it really kicked in-in the middle of ninth-grade, things started looking down. My English teacher always gave me hell. All of the assignments were really long, and we didn't have very much time to complete them. So me, with my OCD, I had to turn it on time and to complete it. Which doesn't happen often because I had other things to do. So I started failing. The already bad anxiety in me expanded throughout my whole being until I just couldn't get any of my work done. Towards spring break, I guess, I started feeling suicidal again. It was bad. I felt like that for months. I'd been self harming for months. No one ever knew, no one except for E. E was the one that sounds the pills in my bag. The day that I was going to do it, E looked through my bag and saw my bottle of migraine and sleeping pills... Strong narcotics. E ran to the counselors, ran to the principles, and I was pulled out of school again. That time, the psychiatrist realized that there was actually something wrong with me; the first time I was suicidal they thought it was 'just because' and I would get over it but this time, they figured out this isn't nothing, this is depression and this is anxiety and this is OCD. I had to stay in rehab for a week. It was... pretty bad. There were girls there who, most of them, where there for cutting like me. There was one girl who was sexually assaulted-which that happen to me later on in the year, but well get to that-there was one girl who's best friend had committed suicide, and she could not stop grieving. There was one girl, she was 17 years old, I don't know what she was there for. She was the meanest being at though. She was rude, she was selfish, she's really demanding. She asked me if I was there for anorexia. Never.
Moving on, I got better, blah blah blah, I got an antidepressant, I got anxiety pills... Things were looking up, I ended up passing the school year. Then... summer came around. Remember how earlier I mentioned that I was unhappy with my weight? That developed into something so awful, so terrible. Not anorexia, but bulimia. I developed a condition where I could eat, I could eat as much as I wanted, but after I ate, I would go straight to the bathroom and throw up, or I would take a pill to make me have diarrhea. I lost a lot of weight, and I'm still struggling.
Finally, the present: the tenth grade...
See, I like older people. And I don't mean just for like dating, but all of my friends are 11th graders. And, of course, I had a boyfriend that was a junior. It was so stupid. He only liked me for my body. We broke up, but he kept on trying to seduce me. Trying to get me to go over to his house so he could "study" meaning having sex and smoking weed. And I always rejected. One day though, the day of my choir concert he was walking me to the choir room, but he stopped me in the middle of the hallway-an empty hallway, a deserted hallway- and raped me. I will never be the same again. It took me about a month to actually tell someone, and guess what... they didn't believe me. I mean, they had cameras. They had cameras! But he knew just the right spot, he knew where to be so that the cameras would not be able to see us. When I told APs, the only thing they did was say that he was not allowed to come back to school. That's all he got. I have not recovered from this tragedy. I don't know if I ever will.
Two months later, I started getting really depressed again. Started feeling all of my classes again, I had 20s and 30s on report cards. That was when my friend, A, persuaded me to smoke cigarettes. It was the best thing, the best relief, the longest lasting relief I've ever had. I did it for about a month. Then my parents found out. They found out 3 weeks ago and my dad didn't talk to me for about two days.
Now today is Christmas, I don't know what I'm doing with my life, and I'm still a liar.
