Beyond A Smile

"Thoughts"

*GRAPHIC DETAIL!!! DON'T READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE SORTS OF THINGS!!*

I'm letting go. 

January 17th, 2019. 11:18 P.M.

So, I'm mid panic/anxiety attack because I realized what tomorrows date is. January 18th. On January 18th, 2016, I tried to commit suicide in the school bathroom. I never talk about it because I figured that I could forget about it. But, I'm always wrong because each year this date rolls around, it hits me harder and harder. I remember the details vividly. I was at lunch, eating alone this day because I wasn't up to sitting with my "Friends." A group of females and some males sometimes talked about me but never have physically said anything to my face. This day however, it was different. It was Monday. I'm sure everyone was pretty moody. On Monday's, I usually wore white shirts. I did. Out of no where, chocolate milk everywhere and laughter all around. Not a friend helped. 

As I ran to the bathroom, tears in my eyes, I looked myself in the mirror. Instantly started blaming myself for the mess made. Attempting to calm down while getting the brown colored fluid off me was indeed a struggle. This wasn't the first time someone bullied me. This wasn't the first time I've encountered an anxiety attack. I gave up on removing the milk stains. I slid down to the floor and I cried. I cried hard.

Thinking everything was over, I heard the bell ring and students depart from the lunch room area. I got the courage to leave, thinking I could head straight for the office to go home. Not a chance. They waited on me outside of the restrooms. I was instantly pushed back in, and drenched with water and insults. Fat, ugly, nerd, lonely, never will have friends. Once it was all over they left. Left me there, soaked and pitiful. This particular day I carried a razor in my belongings. I laid there, in a puddle of my tears, milk, and water. Cutting one slit on both wrist, and going for the neck, I got a phone call. My lifesaver. My mom. I answered, instantly breaking down. I told her to come get me. I didn't and never will tell her what really happened. I love her too much to hurt her.

She picked me up and brought me new clothes to walk out of the hell hole in. I didn't come back for an entire week until I was forced. No one heard about what really happened. 

*I wrote this in hopes to relieve stress off of me. It hurts. I don't want to think about it anymore.*