Battle Scars

one

The hardest part of being a teenager is growing into hormones. Facing puberty and being introduced to these new emotions may be scary.

Let's admit it, depression hits everybody at some point. The lucky ones don't feel it until after high school.

Some deal with it differently than others.

Some go for a walk, draw, work out, smoke; others throw tantrums.

Me, I do none of the above. I self-harm.

I don't know how, or why, but whenever that broken piece of glass hits my skin, whenever that physical pain inflicts, all of that emotional pain vanishes.

The only bad outcome of this are the nasty, puffy scars that appear afterwards.

If those could also vanish, that would be wonderful.

The only other person I have told this, uhh..problem to was my so-called "friend," Veronica Maeker.

Presently, my ex-friend.

I grew up with Veronica as a best friend, and the Maeker's as my family's best friends.

She used to be the best person to be around, to spend time with. Now I'd label her as a grade-a bitch.

Oh, I'm sorry, I meant Queen Grade A Bitch.

I don't even know what exactly happened, was it a wave of bad luck that decided to storm through me? Did I pick up a penny tails-side up? I don't know, but she started to hate me, and the Maeker's started to hate my family.

Which means, since the most popular girl in school, Veronica Maeker, hated me, everyone else had to start hating me too.

Then, that bad luck just got worse and worse. Having absolutely zero friends is the most abominable thing that can possibly happen to a kid in middle school.

One person would say something to the other, then another, and another, and soon enough, two dozen people know about something embarrassing that I did when I was ten years old, point out a flaw, tell a false rumor, or anything else that could possibly damage someone's reputation.

And it was all started by Veronica.

The harrassment never stops. People always stare, laugh, shove, anything.

Anything that could possibly throw someone's good moods off a cliff.

Yeah, you can say junior high was not even close to my peak in life.

~

"What the hell is that on your wrists?" Veronica said when she first noticed my scars, walking past me with a rather trashy-looking boy.

"My cat lost his temper." I said back to her, not knowing what else to say.

She walked closer as I backed up, staring intently. Eyes as wide as a toad's. Boy, did that make me uncomfortable.

"Oh, Amber.."

I expected her to yell at me, shake her head, or maybe even show a little compassion, but instead she started laughing.

And I don't mean a small chuckle, I mean a full on laugh. Where your lungs start to hurt, and you start making awful wheezing noises. The drugged-out boy clung on her shoulder started laughing along.

I felt like shit.

"You're such an idiot, Amber! Cutting yourself is not a way to cry out for attention!"

~

What a friend.

Anyways, with all of that shit aside,

I, indeed, have chronic anxiety and depression.

Yes, I am in high school, which means school is at the peak of it's worst.

I live with my mom, her boyfriend, and Maggie, my little sister.

Don't ask about Walt, my mom's sorry excuse of a boyfriend. It'll just make me peeved.

They're happy. For the most part, my entire family is happy.

All except one person.

Me, the outcast of this entire town.