i eventually had to leave pj's house and return to the two story house on kendall street that i called home.
my dad wasn't home, as usual, and my mum was at work, leaving me and my brother.
my brother never stopped playing video games. i never actually got a turn in the xbox, which didn't really faze me. i wasn't a big gamer.
i picked up my phone and noticed a new friend request on facebook.
friend request from phil lester
accept/decline
accept/decline
i accepted the friend request and continued on with my whole facebook scrolling thing, a few butterflies in my stomach because the prettiest boy in school sent me a friend request.
yikes.
i felt myself getting more and more nauseous.
this wasn't from anxiety or anything.
this was actual sickness.
i felt myself starting to feel sicker, my stomach feeling like it was in the back of my throat.
i decided to have a shower to hopefully calm down.
i turned the hot running water on, turning on the light that only lit up half the room. it was more relaxing that way.
i pit my playlist with artists such as lana del rey and arctic monkeys were on. the songs on here really helped my relax.
it was called my anxiety playlist.
let's go a bit deeper into my anxiety.
when i was 10, i got bullied. quite badly. i would get discriminated because of my height and my skin tone.
i was tall and tanned, but that got me called a junkie.
basically people assumed i was always outside, and in this generation, when is that ever cool?
i was also caught out for really small things such as the colour of my socks or some stupid shit like that.
eventually, it got physical.
i'd get pushed, punched and kicked every chance the bullies got. if i ever tried to fight back, i'd get called weak or dumb because i was unable to hurt them.
every day i'd go home with a new bruise, and eventually my mum cottoned onto the whole 'new day, new bruise' scenario, and called me up for it.
she asked what had happened, and i told her straight out.
that i was being abused by people at school.
so she took matters into her own hands, telling the school. the kids got in trouble and i was safe for a few days. the only thing is, once they were out of suspension, they caught on to the fact that i dobbed on them. they all came over to me and threw me onto the ground, continuously kicking me and shouting abusive language at me, walking away, leaving me helpless on the ground.
i thought about leaving the school. i thought about leaving home.
hell; i even thought about leaving the world.
everything felt so much easier if i was dead.
i wanted to kill myself for the better part of five years.
in fact, these feeling still intrude in my mind.
but i've gotten better.
any scars from places i was kicked and punched had vanished.
any scars from, you know, self harm, had vanished, and i was 3 years clean.
my anxiety has started to get better and i've been proud of myself.
i really have.
👑
