It all started when my best friends started ignoring me.
This was the first time I had been ignored by anyone, and my constant questions were just making things worse.
They found me annoying.
For the first time in my high school life I went home feeling like shit, my family kept asking me questions because I was a pretty happy child. I didn't have any worries, any feeling of distress in me- in fact, sad wasn't in my dictionary. I gradually became more and more moody until I had properly transformed into a teenager on my thirteenth birthday. My mom commented on this whenever she got the chance and my dad just kept asking me if everything was alright...which I found irritating- I finally understood what my friends were talking about (yes, I still hung out with them.)
One day, I came across the Fifty Shades trailer. I was curious to see what the actual film would be like so I watched it online.
A couple of weeks later, my mom went through my history when she was using my laptop. That night, she sat me down with dad. She got so pissed and started hitting me. By the end of that night, I had bruises in lots of places.
I considered going to the cops but I couldn't, because I loved my mother too much to lose her.At the end of that year, my cousin died in a terrorist bombing and soon after that, his sister overdosed on pills, leaving a huge hole in my heart. My aunt got a stroke and was in hospital. My friends and I had a big fight. Everything was going to shit.
That was the first time I raised a pair of scissors to my arm and scratched myself. I ran it across my arm again, a little deeper. I repeated this process, but no blood came. After this, I felt like a coward. I couldn't even fucking cut my arm. I was useless. I looked up and saw my dads shaving blades. I remembered him telling me that they were very sharp and that if I did cut myself it would bleed.
So I picked it up.
I pressed it and ran it along my thighs and I was proud to see blood coming out of the wound already.
I am sick.
Last year, my mom and dad started arguing badly, and all the time. It broke my heart to see my little brother burring his head into a blanket to stop hearing the shouting and screaming. Again, I locked myself in the bathroom and ran my blade along my skin. But it was never as deep as the first time.
I started searching up images of self harm to see if I was doing it deep enough. I wasn't. It was nowhere near as bad as the images. I felt like a sissy, telling myself to stop 'self-harming' if I wasn't doing it, so eventually the cutting got deeper and deeper.
I had to start concealing it now because we had swimming lessons in school. I searched it up but was nearly sick in my stomach every time I watched a YouTube video about it. I was a disgusting creature for doing this to myself (that's what I thought and still do at times), but this thought just made me do it even more.
My concealing skills weren't good enough, and a rumour spread around our year. People would whisper about me in the corridors. Some people said that 'Indians can't self-harm. It's not for them.' and 'She doesn't even have a proper reason.'
From then on, I tried to stop. I needed to stop so people would stop talking about me.
I tried, and I still try so fucking hard but it's really difficult- it's like a drug. And it clings on to you. I started getting majorly affected by everything. There was this girl that I became friends with after I left my old best friends, she had started bitching about me and just bullying me. These people had got tickets to a Troye Sivan concert and knew I adored him and yet still boasted about how rare the tickets were and they were going to meet him.
This leads me to the present. I just sleep and sleep. I never get up.
Sleeping is my escape. I get away from all the shit and I'm unconscious so it's a win-win situation for other people and me. They don't want me around. And I'm not around.
Recently, I went to the mall. I was looking at some clothes and I overheard a girl talking about how ugly desi people are. She even looked at me and smirked. I felt like a train had hit me. I was broken by this one sentence and so I went home and wrote a suicide note. Then I remembered my brother. My little brother who would have no one if he had problems and so I stayed. Because of him, he's my little star.
A few weeks back I blacked out.
Now I clinically have depression.
But to everyone else out there- self harm is not the answer, it's never the answer. Whatever happens to you, you need to promise me that you will never turn against yourself.
You are your greatest enemy.
Conquer yourself and you will be happy.
~Charlie
