My depression and cutting story

Chapter 1

Just a disclaimer, I will not be using my real last name in this story just in case anyone finds this that I know in person. I will also not be using the real names of anyone else in this story because I feel that would be disrespectful. All of these experiences have happened, I'm going to write this in first person but more like an actual story rather than just me ranting, it would be easier to read and more interesting. As I go "back in time" I will write it as if I'm actually back then and not looking back on the past so it's easier to see how my feelings developed over time.

May 2015

This is my last two weeks of fifth grade. I cannot believe it. We are so busy! Today, Wednesday, is track and field day and I'm really excited. Yesterday, we had a play performance and I had to sing a solo and I was so nervous. I threw up before I went to school.

I get to school and I walk with my friend Vallery to our cubbies to put our backpacks in. And yes, cubbies. I think it's very stupid that we can't have lockers. We are 11!

As I'm reaching into my backpack to grab my iPad, I pull out this piece of notebook paper that had been in my backpack. I had grabbed in out of my school mailbox on Friday and forgotten about it. Confused, I unfold it and read it.

"Lilly S,
I cannot believe how ugly u are. U should start wearing a mask to school and do the world a favor. Lose some weight too, ur getting pretty chubby. Oh and don't forget, why don't u just kill urself too? The world would be so much happier without u.
-Anonymous"

Immediately, tears fill my eyes. "Oh my gosh." I barely mutter through sobs.

"Lilly, what happened?" My friend Ella looks at me in concern.

"I don't know." I say as I go into the classroom, crying. I feel a tap on my shoulder to see my teacher.

"What's the matter?" Mrs. Berg asks.

"This." I hand her the letter, shaking.

After she glances over the letter, shock takes over her face. She has me go talk to the social worker, who I have never seen before. Apparently she and the principal are working on figuring out who wrote it, which is good. I'd like to know who hates me too.

The minute I get home, I lay in bed. Numb. Why would someone say that to me? I don't understand it. I know they're right, I've never been good enough anyways. Even with my straight A's, I've never done enough.