My Story....

Introduction

 Before this was finished, before I was even able to understand the words I had written, I was asked a question. What did I want the readers to get out of reading this story? What did I hope you to gain? Strength? Honesty? I wanted those that read this to gain something more. Knowledge. Knowledge that your past does NOT define you. But that it helps you. It helps you grow and become a stronger person. That you realize that you are not your pain, or your hurt. You are not the wrongdoings others did unto you. The things that you have gone through are not your fault, but simply the outcome of others not knowing the difference between what it means to truly love and care for another, are not your fault. That you can't help a person that does not want to help themselves. That those people, the things they did, the hurt they caused, are simply because they have not found it in themselves to do well unto to others. That causing pain and strife are found easy for them. I want you all to remember that the hurt that has been poured unto you.. IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT.

Normally when a person writes a book, it's because they felt creative at a time. They had found a vision in their head and wanted to bring it to life. They feel the need to get it all down on paper before they forget. And at some point, decide share it with the world. Some succeed and some don't. But it isn't about whether or not they end up successful for it. What matters to them is taking what they see and giving it a voice. You probably think that this is one of those times. Where I felt creative, maybe I had a vision, something inspired me? Something did inspire me, but not in the way you would think. This isn't a fiction story. It is not full of tales and lies, false hope and fantasies. This is a true story. Full of facts and different parts of my life I felt important enough to share. Everything is important to share. But if I were to go into detail, you may be reading this for about 4 years. It would turn into the Odyssey. A book not many people are able to finish. I didn't even finish it. I didn't want that for you all. So sit back, grab a snack and take a peek into my mind. You might find it interesting, or depressing, maybe even a little twisted. I have written this so many times. But for some reason I can't get it right. Nothing seems to sound right. I can't find the right words. Maybe if I just.... No that's not right. What if I... no that's not right. Well how about.. No that just sounds dumb.

At one point in my life, I was happy. Don't get me wrong. Just your typical teenage girl. Shopping, movies and friends, and pizza. And I mean A LOT of pizza. But somewhere between buying those jeans and walking home.. Something changed. I no longer cared for shopping or spending time with friends. I no longer cared for going out to eat, or eating in general. If I could go back and change it I would. I wasn't eating, I wasn't talking, or sleeping. I no longer wanted to try.

Maybe it had to do with the string of therapists over the past 5 years that referred to my past as" broken glass" and said that I needed to get a new one. But how? How could I change the past several years of a life I wasn't in control of? Or was it the constant bullying? It had to be the bullying. I guess when your classmate tries to kill you and gets away with it you kinda lose hope, purpose. You don't look at life the same. It gets harder and harder to breathe and as I stare at myself in the mirror, I no longer recognize myself.. I no longer know who I am. I guess what i'm trying to say is that turning to cutting was easy. It was an escape. Not eating satisfied me. The worst part is It made me feel better. No that's not the worst part. The worst part is I still crave it. To this day I still crave it. It kept me sane. It was my temporary fix. But what if temporary is forever? Forever stuck in the loop tainted by my own dark thoughts. But what if my dark thoughts were my greatest strengths? Maybe there was a purpose to all this failure.... To help me find strength in myself? I guess what I wanted was to be heard. To listen.... 

I just WANTED SOMEONE TO LISTEN!! But how long would it take before someone looked in the mirror long enough to realize I was already gone..?