I wanted to die.

                Introduction.

Yes, this is just a little story about life happenings and how my life slowly progressed since the age of 8 to now when i'm 14.

              Primary School.

         In Primary School I was a good kid. I wasn't the most intelligent, but what I ever I did I would try my best. I had shoulder length brown hair and a very thin body. I ate lots, that just resulted in having a fast metabolism. I went to school everyday. I enjoyed it. My 'friend' Courtney pushed me round a lot just after my mam waved me off to play in the yard. I always felt underestimated by her.

         I wasn't an emotional child, but she would always brag about her dad knowing that I didn't have one. I let go over my head, then go and join the boys in a game of rugby or some sport. I always preferred playing with the boys. I still do. They'd always treat me like I was just another boy.

             At lunch time, the boys would always leave a seat for me in the middle of the table. I got the the revolting food that was effusively put on my plate. I scurried over to my seat and there, in MY seat was Courtney. Her fat hips over powered the boys either side of her. I walked over and glared at the boys intently. They stared back at me then looked down Courtney. I missed the boys taking my food because I didn't like what I had as I was extremely fussy on what I ate. I didn't want to cause trouble so I moved to another table. I was now sat alone.

         Dinner ladies wouldn't let us go to play unless we ate most of our dinner. Like I've mentioned already I despise the food they produced there. I held my nose then took big bites. Just thinking about the food made me sick to my stomach. There was a small amount left. I ran out of the

canteen and immediately to the girls toilets. Shutting the cubical door behind me I melted to the floor, listened out for any one then put my fingers down my throat. The vomit went up through my gullet and I felt it.

            There was only a couple of sheets of toilet paper left and I used it wipe my mouth. I lobbed it down the toilet, flushed then opened the door. There, stood Courtney. I felt like being sick again but there was in my stomach to come up. She glared and said 'You ugly pig'. I looked at my tiny feet, 'I know' I replied. She fiercely showed my shoulder then waddled away. I broke down into tears. I wanted to go home. This was bullying, I did nothing about it.

                 Change.

           I moved to this village in Aberdare because my mother couldn't afford the rent. My older brother acted like he didn't know me. I adored him. What ever he used to do I would to the exact same, like breaking stuff and basically causing mayhem.

         I was eight and a half when I moved. I settled in quickly and made a lot of friends. Soon enough I was counted as one those popular kids. Before I even realised I was voted head girl, all girls wanted this. I was in year six then I had this role.

                  Despair.

         June the sixth, 2012 was an important date as my dad died. He didn't bring me up but I always thought about him and that he was there. Dreaming constantly of going over to his house when I'm older. But not anymore, that all stopped right then.  I cried for days, then then just stopped as I realised that I was being silly. I was always feeling alone. Nobody knew how I felt because I bottled it all up. There was guilt of not being able to see him, anger as I knew that I could see him.

I just about remember that one day I came in from school and my mother was annoyed with me. I don't know why but I got scared when she started shouting with aggression in my face. I sprinted up the stairs and heard her come up after me. With relief I got through my door. She came behind me and clenched the back of my hair then tugged it towards her. It hurt, a lot. When I was young my mother had hit me numerous times but I thought nothing of it. It made me upset, but I thought it was normal for that to happen. I didn't want to be here anymore. I wanted to die.

      My mother toot drugs

and had lots of party's that involved having strange, unknown men over. If I asked what was going on she would always tell me she was having a quiet drink with them. I walked in on her leaning over the cabinets sniffing a white powder. I had no clue what it was. But, I couldn't believe what I saw. This went on for about three days, she didn't sleep a bit. I woke up wishing I never did. Still today nobody knows what my mam did, and how thoughtless she was for doing that. I hated her so much.

                   Settling.

         My mam, two sisters, brother and me moved back to where we used to live and where I live now. I moved to a second high school then settled in quite quick there to.

        I started wearing make up and cared about how I looked as there were boys in my school but none in my old school. My end of year tests chose what set I was going to be in year 9. My mother didn't ask how was, never ever did. When my brother left for school she'd always try to kiss him and tell him she loves him. But, I always left for school not even with a 'Bye' from her. So many times I've cried before going into hell. I hated my life.

                  Year 9.

I started drinking a lot. Every weekend I was getting in states and making a fool out of myself. Drinking and music was escape from life. It made me think that nothing mattered.

                Depressed.

Everything was becoming too much for me. My grandfather passed away on the second half of year 9, it left me to despair. Since then, it's been a struggle to keep happy for anything. I still drink, but more. A whole lot more. Shortly after that it was a Thursday night. As normal I woke up for school to the sound of Attila, Payback. This was indeed one of my favourite songs. I put a lot of make up on as I had really bad skin, spots and scabs all over my forehead and chin. I looked in the mirror and hate I saw. I was fat and ugly. All the girls had perfect figures and skin I didn't. I had neither. I hated everyone, because I hated myself. Later on that morning I had an argument with my 'mother'. She called me a stuck up slut, when she had more boyfriends than me in the matter of three months. Hypocritical bitch.

         I left in tears. School was pretty rubbish, I got left out with the girls a lot. Had a lot people walk past me and just look at me as if I was some sort of monster. I walked home on my own just listening to music. I got home, walked upstairs then my mother called up the stairs 'Kids, what do you want for food?' My brother said pizza, and my sisters said chips. Then my mother returned to the kitchen. I felt so down. I didn't know what to do. I hated everyone, how I looked and how I felt. I had nobody to speak to. There wasn't any way I could just reveal how I feel. I hid a sharpener at the bottom on my make up box. I unscrewed to nail that joined the nail to plastic. I took a look at the blade and dragged the sharp end across my wrist. I felt relief but still so alone and depressed, I continued to do it. Moving further up my arm, pressing harder and harder each time. I stared at the blade. Then the blood travelling from my cut to the edge of my wrist caught my attention. I lay on the floor pressing against it with tissue paper. I spent the rest of the night just laying on my bed crying. I couldn't breath at one point but then managed to calm myself.

                    Secrets.

I woke up with crust around my eyes, mascara down my cheeks. I made my face look normal as if nothing happened. I was hungry, but I ate nothing last night so that's probably the explanation. I put my wrist up towards my stomach, turned it and saw the swollen scabs. I trampled for my dressing gown so that if anyone were to enter my room so they wouldn't see it. Monday morning came and I still felt down. I felt like self harming again. School made me depressed a lot, too much. The same shit happened. I get left out. All the girls cared about them selves nobody else. Nobody cared about me that's one of the main reasons I cut. In P.E the tops we wore showed our arms I managed to hide my cuts all the way through. Nobody knew a thing.

             'I'm fine. Honest.'

My family asked me what was wrong. But it was simply easier to say I was fine. No matter how I did actually feel I lied. My mood become worse. It was at least a week since I self harmed. I just got out of the bath then started to cry. I picked up the blade then made several deep long cuts along my upper thigh. Nobody would see them here. I have scars on wrist, but will soon have them on my thigh. I'll never forgive those people who made me want to die.