Pool

Drowning

 Trigger Warning: include self harm in this chapter. You have been warned.   

      Sometimes it feels like I'm drowning in a pool of my own self hatred. Like nobody gives a shit whether I live or die. I spent most of my life secluded from others because I thought that I wasn't good enough for a real friend. I wish life was like a Disney movie. Everyone gets a happy ending. I probably passed by you at school and you didn't even realize it. That's ok don't feel guilty about it now. I was use to it.

     Believe it or not I wasn't always like this. I use to be a happy go lucky kid. I got straight A's, barely got in trouble, kind to everyone I met. That all came to an ending when I started going to school. I was bullied badly and the only person who seemed to care was my teacher. I believed that everyone was alike and that I didn't think skin color would effect how you can make people feel. I can remember it like it was yesterday. I was sitting on the bus ready to get home so I can play with my mom. A girl (let's call her karen) Karen turns around in her bus seat, looks me straight in the face and says " You're stupid and ugly because you're black!". Even I could admit that hurt like hell because I didn't know what was so wrong being a different color. I went home to my mother and cried. She had to explain racism to me at the age of 5. I know there is someone that was younger, but that shit hurt.

      As the years went on I kept my feelings on the inside. When I hit 6th grade I thought that it would change. Nope! My own teacher started bullying me because of my race. I couldn't bare much for long. When I got home one day my mom was making tacos for dinner. She doesn't know that I'm practically dying on the inside. I lost all hope at this point. I accidentally spilled the taco sauce. My mom yelled "Can you do anything right?!". I didn't even answer I just ate my food in silence. I was breaking I could feel it. After I did my kitchen chores I went to my room laid down and cried. I cried so much that it hurt my chest. I grabbed a safety pin, put it to my wrist, and cut as hard as I could. I did this a few times,  but when I got done I told myself I would never do it again.
   

      I wore long sleeves to cover up the  cuts. I thought that I could stop until I felt in control of my emotions, and Express them. It was my only outlet, but that eventually turns to an everyday thing. Nobody knew. It was my very own dark secret. Although I felt alone I also felt that the razors/pins were my best friend. I wasn't even trying to kill myself,  but if it did kill me then I wouldn't care.

I.WAS.NOT.ENOUGH