The Bell Jar, My Beloved Friend

March 23, 2018

It really all started back when I was in seventh grade. My hormones had started to kick in, my mother became more strict on me, as I was turning 12 years old. I've done research on depression and 12 year olds are the second least likely to get depression. Its usually 16 year olds. Within the three years, a lot of things happened that I kept bottling up in my mind as something I unfortunately can't forget. The most recent, I made a mistake on February 20, I published a inappropriate photo on my Instagram story and twitter. after two of my dear online friends confronted me about it, I immediately took it off. It will be easier to understand before hand that my second nature is lying. A few other people felt uncomfortable about it, and they spammed not only my phone, but my dad's as well because my account is connected to my dad's phone. At first, I didn't realize that I was lying, but once I realized, it was too late too get out so I was stuck in quick sand. I got blocked on both social media accounts. seeing it made me more depressed and confused. Knowing that I had disappointed a good friend I really wantedto be with, I fucked up the chance. Things like this, where there is a lot of pressure being put on me, bottles up and stays. I cried for hours, not an exaggeration, and days after everyone had moved on from the incident. I lost not just one friend, but probably more.  Yesterday, after I got home from school, I started crying for about fifteen minutes in my closet of kpop merchandises  thinking about how much of a bad friend I am. From that, I got called up to offices for mental health counseling for teenagers. I don't have one, but two, and a social worker to help me adjust my living at home. From the incident, I haven't felt pain in a while, so I used a razor to cut my self. As blood fell to the floor and all over my knees, twenty new cuts were there, with 18 new scars left behind. If you were to see my left arm, there would be about 50 countable scars, but those would only be visible at first few glances. Since 2015, I've counted how many were added each time. I think about killing my self at least ten times a day, or more.  There were three times I tried to kill myself, but ended up failing. That will be a story for another day. Im going to go finish my homework and cry for half an hour. You won't even notice. I promise...

-Christy Pham