Beyond A Smile

"Why?"

People ask me why I say these things. Things about life being make believe and death being real. It's true. Death is happiness. This is my story : (THERE IS A LOT OF GRAPHIC DETAIL SO IF IT IS ANY TRIGGER TO YOU, STOP READING NOWWWWW)

Nine years ago,My brother and I were sexually, verbally and physically abused by someone that we used to love, adore, and wanted to be like once I got older. I was seven years old and he was four.

In 2013, I tried to kill myself for the first time. I did it in my room of my old house. I took a half gone bottle of pills, which of course knocked me out. I thought that I actually died, that I was free. During the time, I was home alone. It was after school, where everyone bullied me. I woke up six hours later to exactly 13 missed calls from my mother. I told her a lie, "My charger stopped working and my phone died." She believed it along with everyone else who asked why I didn't answer the phone. To this day, she doesn't know that I did attempt suicide that day.

On July 4th, 2015, I cut myself for the first time .During this time period, I was 100% experimenting with sexualities, and in fact getting bullied at my school. The person who walked in on me didn't stop me. I'm glad that she didn't for two reasons : Shows she doesn't and never cared for me, and shows that what I was doing was for a reason. It didn't hurt. It felt good. Watching the blood from my wrist flow down and drip to my fingers down to my fingertips and then to the floor made me feel empowered. I set part of my soul free, which what I thought was a good thing.. until it eventually came back. I felt dark. Stronger yet weaker. The human body is very fragile. I ended up passing out and waking up in the same place. No one found or saw me from my knowledge. Blood was everywhere. Felt like a crime scene.

In December of 2016, I cut myself while in a hospital. Hospitals make me feel weird. The smell of medicine, the amount of humans crying in agony.. makes me wish I was the one dying, since they seem to love this world so much. I saw the nearest bathroom so I then went for it with a No. 2 pencil in my pocket. I shut the door, locked it and sat with my back against a wall. Plugging my earbuds in, listening to Pierce The Veil, I began to dismantle the pencil, leaving the silver part of the eraser exposed and very, very sharp. I cut six slits. Three on each wrist. Watching the little amount of blood oozing from my arms brought a smile to my face. I got the bleeding to stop, the rolled my sleeves down as I walked out the bathroom as if nothing happened.

In May of 2018 was the day that my mom found out that I was suicidal. I was forced to go into therapy and my mother had to be in the room while I spoke to the therapist. I was asked if I was and still am suicidal. I said yes. My mom cried. I had no emotion. I honestly didn't need nor want anyone related to me to know.. they make big deals out of little shit.

I haven't cut since July of 2018. I haven't attempted to overdose since August of 2018. I tried to drown myself Monday in the bathtub. That was unsuccessful. 

I give up. So, you ask why? Those are some of the reasons why. Why I 100% hate it here in this world. Set me free.

~Hey , it's Steph. This chapter is in fact very true, and no, I don't want anyone feeling bad for me. It makes me feel uncomfortable. Let me know if you can relate to anything in this book. Thanks !