February 15th, 2010
Hey so it's been quite a while. Nothing new has really happened. Mom still yells at me, I am still stressing. One new thing that happened is we got a new kid. He is a senior at my school. He just transferred from Doncaster. His name is Louis Tomlinson. I haven't seen him or met him yet, but I already know to stay away from him. As I was going through my days, people talked about Louis and how he instantly fits in with the popular group. The jocks.
The jocks and I don't have a good history. You see, when I openly came out as bisexual, they started bullying me. Calling me names like fag, queer, you know all the colorful language. If I was alone in a hallway, they would drag me into the restroom and start kicking and punching me. I would go through the rest of the school days with a busted lip and a black eye. When I come home, mom doesn't acknowledged it. She just asked if I have finished my homework or for me to go study.
In class they would send me notes telling me to go kill myself . It is just not good. I came out bisexual my freshman year. So they have been torturing me for a little over a year. My mom didn't accept me though. She said I was a disgrace to the family name. When mom gets drunk, she calls me downstairs only to tell me how much of a disappointment I am. I wish people were accepting. I wish people wouldn't bully people for being gay, lesbian. trans, bisexual, etc.
Like what is the point? We are human just like you. We have the same rights as you. We use the same toilets. Nothing is different. We aren't aliens for another planet. We aren't a disease. We are who we are. We are who we choose to be. Love is Love. People don't get it though.
I come home from schools on some days sad and depressed. When I do, I go up to my room and cut myself. I grab the razor from my drawer and sit on my floor. I strip to where I am only wearing underwear. I look in the mirror and see all the faded and new cuts. They cover my entire stomach, almost all my thighs, and my arms. I have the word fag carved into my thigh. It's like a tattoo that reminds me of what I really am.
Today was one of those days. I grabbed the razor and started cutting myself. When the blade hits my skin, I zone out. My body is a canvas. And I am the artist. I cut into my skin my emotions, my feelings. I cut slowly so I can feel the pain that is so pleasurable to me. I cut deep so I can see the dark red blood oozing out of me. The color red I like to call it. I mix in the red with all the greenish-purplish spots on my body.
When I am finish creating my art piece, I look at my work. It looks beautiful. All the cuts and bruises making the painting so beautiful. If you look at my body, you will see a story. A story of a sad boy who is not accepted by his mom, or society. You see the story of a boy struggling trying to love himself. My body tells a story. No one wants to read it or understand it though.
I haven't met this Louis guy yet, but I really hope he isn't like them. I hope he is a sweet guy and stays away from the bad things. If he doesn't, that is just more pain to come. I really hope he is nice.
Well that's all I have to say today.
All the love, H
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The Diary ||L.S||
FanfictionHarry has a hard life. He is under so much stress because of his mother. He is insecure about how he looks or talks. He feels like his friends don't really love him. He feels alone. So he writes all his thoughts in his diary. Some are poems, some ar...
