That night I had sat in my room contemplating life and death and knowing that if I chose death there would be no turning back. I had it all planned out. When I was home alone, I would take 15 Advil PMS I didn't know what it would do. I just hoped it wouldn't be enough to kill me. I didn't want to die, there was apart of me I wanted to kill. I wanted the part that told me to kill myself to die I didn't want that there anymore. I had tried everything. Therapy. Medication. Talking to my mom. And everything else you could think of but nothing worked. At least for me. My mom told me I was going through a stage and that everyone feels the same way as me at my age. But I have felt like this for two years. And I'm so done and I'm so tired of feeling empty. I know some people have it worse than me. And it just seems life is never gonna get better.
Day 1||
Well let's start from the beginning. I had an amazing life. Or did. I lived an average life for a not so average girl. I guess this whole thing started when I began middle school. 4th grade. I had really long blond hair. the other girls would pull it, and say lets rip out of these extensions. Your hairs fake. Go stick your fingers down your throat so more. You're anorexic. You're ugly. You're goth. Nobody likes you. If you died no one Would notice. You're invisible. As I grew up I realized that for fourth graders, those were some vulgar terms. The teachers knew but never said anything. My mom knew and called the school but they didn't do anything. This lasted the whole year.
5th grade||
In 5th grade it was the exact same thing, but boys started to do it too. This one boy would say I was the devil, i was going to Rot In hell, I belong in hell, he would say to his friends look it's the devil. I was always upset. But I didn't think it was going to effect me this long. They slammed my hand in my locker. I broke two fingers. Everyone would laugh. No one would help. I would of done anything for anyone. No matter what, even if I hated them, I never wanted anyone to feel the pain I went through.
6th grade||
The boy stopped. But even till this day I hate all of those people. No I'm not in 6th grade. That year girls started with rumors as well as boys. I was the "attention seeker". I was the person people came to for help, but after i helped them they turned on me. Things got worse because I started hanging with the wrong crowd. The ones that would grow up and smoke pot and God knows what else. The people who will lose their virginity early. And because I hung out with them, people thought I was like them. But I wasn't they were the only people that accepted me. As the year went on, I got into a couple of physical altercations. Neither ending in bad results. (Names have been changed for their protection) Ashley started rumors saying I was putting threatening notes in her locker. Threatening to beat her up. And saying awful nasty things. But I had not done those things. The principal called me in his office. Asking me why I did it. I told him I had not done this accusations and explained to him that I wouldn't want to harm someone I didn't like for no reason. He still didn't believe me. I got screamed at and got blamed for the whole thing. To this day we still don't know who did it. I started to cut after people started saying I was a bitch, pathetic ugly worthless, trash, white trash, I belong in the ghetto and so on. I started with a knife, then my best friend at the time taught me to use a pencil sharpener blade, it felt so good like I was releasing all the bad things out of me and I couldn't stop because I felt I had done so many terrible things. It didn't hurt. It became a daily habit for me. To cut deeper each time. I deserved this I thought. No one needs me, if I died now no one would notice. Each time I cut I fell in love with it over and over. I felt as if I couldn't stop. I told my best friend at the time who is now someone who hates me. She started to cut as well. I never taught her, I never told her to do it. She did it for her own reasons. I still don't know why. Her mother found out, Mary told her mother I cut too. Her mother showed up at my house and told my parents. I had to tell them everything. Again I got blamed. Mary and Sarah told their mothers I taught them how
To do it, I told them to do it, that they never wanted to that i forced them, but I never did. The only person that knew I didn't do that was my mother. She knew I would never want someone else to harm themselves. My mom took away all my razors, and cried. She was so hurt. She asked me why I would do that to her, I told her it was never for me to hurt her, it was for me to feel the pain I felt I deserved.
