I sat in my pink unicorn shirt, black jeans and white nike sneakers. I was at the park, as usual. I hated my house. I lived in a bit of a broken home. My mom and dad were both raging alcoholics. They got drunk a lot which led to them doing drugs.
When they were hyped up on whatever drug they were doing and alcohol, they got really mean and would fight and abuse me. I usually just left the house before so I wouldn't have to deal with it. I'll admit, I'm broken. My family has been broken ever since my sister Bethany died. Bethany was a year older than me and basically 700 times better than me.
She was a model and extremely amazing. My parents clearly favored her. They absolutely loved her and tolerated me. Being a model, Bethany spent a lot of time away from home. The model business led her to anorexia. Since we didn't see her often, we didn't know. She had been not eating for a very long time.
She would put weights in her pockets when she went to the doctor and well, nobody knew. She was very depressed and one day, the anorexia got the best of her. It was really hard on my parents and now they are well them. I spend 99.9% of my time at the park. It's peaceful here. There is no shouting, or punching, or kicking, or pain. It's calm.
Bethany and I were not alike in any way when she was alive. I thought we were just polar opposites. After she died, I discovered that we weren't so different. She was depressed, I'm depressed. She had anxiety, I have anxiety. She was an insomniac, I'm an insomniac. She had anorexia, I have bulimia. She self harmed, I self harm.
I never thought I'd turn into my sister. I'm exactly like he now exempt my parents still hate me and I'm still ugly. I sat on the bench silently. I watched the happy children play with their happy parents. I frowned slightly. I turned around and saw a squirrel climbing up the tree. I turned back around and saw a boy sitting next to me. "Holy shit," I screamed in fear.
"Oh my god, you scared me," I whispered. He chuckled. "Sorry," he said. "It's okay," I said and gave him a reassuring smile. He looked down at my arm and I felt his eyes on my scars. I crossed my arms, suddenly feeling very self conscious. "You don't have to hide them, he said. "I have them too," he said, pulling up his sleeve.
He gave me a sympathetic smile and that was the start of our friendship.
