My life Story(True Story)

5 - Numerous ages - Failed friendships

I used to have loads of friends, friends that I could trust. People who I thought cared about me and my well being. But I realized that having friends is one thing, but having people to talk too is another.

Primary school was filled with drama, as is most schools. You're forced to choose which people are your true friends and which are not. In my case, none of them were. I was forced back a year, which hard considering I had to still see my Abuser every single day. My so called 'friends' started to distant themselves from me, since they were the oldest of my school and I was a year under them. It hurt though. While they made new friends and had people to talk too, people to hang out with afterwards. I had to go home to a loud house, that if one thing went wrong. My dad or my other siblings would act up, that happened a lot.

-

My 'friends' went into Secondary school, I went into sixth class. I felt all alone. But I had her, we became friends in fifth class. We hung around together and we got along. My other friends were like telling me she was a freak and asked me something.

"Why are you hanging around with her?"

"She's my friend." I replied.

I didn't know the impact that that person alone would have on my life. I developed feelings for her, that I had to ignore for the sake of our friendship. She was my life, the one thing that I kept going to school for, she made me forget that my Abuser was still around and could be watching me.

She made me have hope for the future, that I wouldn't end of sick like my mother.

But, I did.

-

Sixth class past and we were great friends, but when we went into Secondary. Things changed, I don't know why but I felt like she didn't want to to talk to me anymore. I came in everyday, happy and even smiling that I was going to see her.

But every lunch when I rushed towards our meeting place, she just sat down in one of the classrooms and began her homework. I tried to talk to her, ask her about her day and stuff like that. But she just nodded, barely listening.

It hurt.

That was around the time, I began chain-smoking. That was nearly three years ago now, I think.

We don't talk anymore. She probably hates me, who wouldn't. I hate myself, more than anyone could. But no matter how much I try to hate her, I can't. I don't have it in me to hate anyone.

Not even the guy that raped me.

-

So I left school, I couldn't handle not having anyone to talk too. Especially seeing everyone come in, looking so happy and pretty. While I had a frown on my face, still as ugly as ever. That was when my true depression surfaced, I started sleeping in. Refusing to go to school, I didn't really care about anything.

My life was a shattering reflection on what's to come, two failed suicide attempts, and I can't even count how many time I came close to slitting my wrist, or cutting to deep.

And that's when, I went to a mental hospital for the first time.