Take Care.

Chapter Three

So this chapter is going to be more focused on our writers personal story which does include self harm, self hatred, panic attacks/anxiety, suicidal thoughts and verbal abuse (homophobic) so if any of these effect you please do not read this as I would hate for anyone to hurt themselves or relive any unwanted memories.

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I was diagnosed with anxiety when I was 7 and I was prone to panic attacks due to not being able to handle social situations mix that with the fact I was an insomniac by the time I was 10, I used to get really bad night terrors until I got fed up and trained myself to not sleep at night, or at all really, my parents decided it was time to see a specialist. I didn't want see anyone about it all because I knew that there would be times I would have to relive the terrors and I wasn't sure I could handle that. What was the point of being scared of something when you could just not? Apparently it was unusual for someone so young to be feeling this way and they kept assuring me that it won't take over my life or define me but I didn't really care or listen I just thought I was weird and that was that.

It was in Year 8 when I started hurting myself, I was starting to hate myself and I didn't know what to do.  At first, it was just digging my nails into my skin or pulling my hair out, but then I had a really bad argument with Hope about how I spent to much time with the new girl and how I was always blowing her off and ignoring her. I could see in her eyes the hatred she must of felt towards me and it was all my fault, I mean I know I was assigned to look after the new girl but it was selfish of me to not give Hope attention. I felt useless, so I went home, got in the shower, took apart the razor I would use to shave my legs and cut my left wrist three times.

1. For ignoring Hope.

2. For making Hope hate me.

3. For fighting with Hope even though I knew she was right.

I was so shocked at myself that all I could do was cry. No one noticed.

About month after I first cut myself I had started to do it more often and each time the reasons had become sillier and sillier, just petty things that others would put off. Petty things that I would hate myself for. Soon enough cutting became an almost daily thing for me. I was addicted to the pain, knowing I was punishing myself for being me. I hated myself. 

The first person who found out was the boy I sat opposite to in form, he always looked at me with so much happiness in his eyes for some reason. What happened was he was borrowing one of my pens for his last minute homework just like every morning and when he was done because he thought he was a funny guy he suddenly shouted catch, so instinctively I reached to grab it and my sleeve slipped down exposing my wrist but I didn't realise and caught the pen, I felt happy with myself, that was until I saw what he was staring at. I had never been more disgusted with myself. I had always been so careful, and because I had decided to flirt with this boy he knew my secret. The only thing going round my head that day was how much of a twat I was. He kept looking at me for the next couple of days but never said anything. I was scared he was going to tell someone, so I slipped a note into his pocket saying 'don't tell anyone, please!'. He never spoke to me about it, I don't think he ever told anyone either but he has never looked at me with happiness in his eyes since.

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I've decided to end this chapter here despite it only being partly through what I wanted to say about our main character because like I said last chapter this story is so difficult for me to write that I actually feel a little sick writing this. I am going to carry on with her story in the next chapter but for now I can't write it. Bye x.