Story cover for What are feelings? by ElizaMiller227
What are feelings?
  • WpView
    Reads 15
  • WpVote
    Votes 3
  • WpPart
    Parts 3
  • WpHistory
    Time 6m
  • WpView
    Reads 15
  • WpVote
    Votes 3
  • WpPart
    Parts 3
  • WpHistory
    Time 6m
Ongoing, First published Jul 27, 2018
Mature
Hi my name is Mckenzie and I'm trying to figure out my feelings,life,death and other things. I have depression. I just turn 13 and I'm going though that stage just like everyone else. Other people like to fit in but I'm just that one quite person thinking lets see how many scars can i count today. I tried to killed myself countless of times (didn't work as you can see). I get bullied thats what triggers my depression and my parents fight and my dad rapes me i hate it he aways hits me when i say no and forces me. Well got to go. 
I hope you vote. 
No do not copy this. No copyright.
All Rights Reserved
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Loneliness. Depression. Broken. Scared. Devastated. Hopeless. Mournful. Disheartening. Bleak. Joyless. Somber. I have no one. Depression and Loneliness are the only things I feel. My family tries to make me happy, but I just put on a fake smile and cry about it in my room. They act like everything is alright, but everything is not. They KNOW I was devastated about Mom's murder. They KNOW I was heartbroken about Dad's sickness that eventually killed him. That's all I've thought about. Devastation and heartbroken. Just because of those two things. Never in my life I have been this devastating. Dayton, Hayden, Angel, or Monica know how to make me truly happy. Not even my own siblings know how to make me show a real smile. Suicide is all I can think about day to day and I've almost died because of that. DEPRESSION IS A REAL THING. NO ONE KNOWS HOW I FEEL EVERYDAY. NO ONE CAN JUDGE OTHERS ABOUT DEPRESSION OR EVEN MAKE JOKES ABOUT IT BECAUSE ITS A REAL THING. DEPRESSION HAS KILLED PEOPLE. EVERYONE IN MY LIFE JUDGES ME JUST BECAUSE I DON'T SMILE, LAUGH, HUG, OR DO ANYTHING NORMAL PEOPLE DO. I CUT MYSELF, I CRY, I YELL, I VENT, I PUSH PEOPLE OUT OF MY LIFE. Those are the things people are worried about me. "Go kill yourself and join your parents in hell." They say and I just shrug it off and find a private place to hide and cry it out. "I CAN'T DEAL WITH LIFE ANYMORE!!!!" I say and I use my sharp nails and cut myself then cry some more. A gun is buried within my arm for defense from my dad, but I use it in case I am tired of society. Then that's when I met the Host Club. They saw my sadness and made me a part of it to repay my debt for accidentally breaking a vase. I am now a Host for men to flatter them, but how can normal guys want me to be a Host when I wear lip earrings, eyeliner, chains, and have a gun in my arm? I'm the definition of Hell. Then he made me smile again, something that I thought I would never get back. Happiness.
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