Nobody Truly Knows...
- Reads 39
- Votes 1
- Parts 2
As a child, I was in and out of foster homes. Now at the age of 15 I am in once again another. My story is different then any other, but the question is... how long is my story?
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The leaving 11 years on on going stopped up dating for a awhile
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I'm different, I can read and see what people think. Every moment of everyday... it's not normal. I've been this way for too long. Ever since I saw my best friends dad die in front of my own two, once blue eyes. My now gold orbs, seeing the world for what it actually is. Unfortunately, I think that this story will be discontinued. Thank you to everyone who has read it, this just isn't what I'm interested in writing anymore. It's been too long since I've written. 9/6/17 to 3/30/19Complete
𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒, 𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒
"It's getting harder each day, so much harder. It drains me to have to constantly put up a mask, hiding how I really feel behind a smile that isn't even true. I don't think I'll ever find that easy, because it's not. The easy part for me is lying, it always has been. Telling them I'm fine always works. But the hardest thing... the hardest thing is realising that no one hears my pleads, my cries and my screams... leaving me to fix my broken mind." ~~ Cooper Bryan is a young boy living with his mother in California, he lost his brother and father when he was 7 and now, his mother is moving on, she's getting remarried. From bullying, to awful step brothers, to having monsters in his head, Cooper fears he won't make it through his teenage years... but he's surviving... and he's doing it damn well too. This... this is his story, with many ups and a million downs, this... this is Cooper Bryan's troubled life. ~~ DISCLAIMER: I do not own any photos/Videos or songs used in this Wattpad story. They were either found on google or YouTubeComplete
"There comes a point where you no longer care if there's a light at the end of the tunnel or not. You're just sick of the tunnel." - Who I am doesn't matter. How I got here doesn't matter. What matters now is I'm getting help, right? That's what they tell me here. They tell me that the road to recovery feels like a terrible butt fuck, but the fact that you're on the path to begin with, is all that matters. So as I sit in this circle of fuck ups, I realize just how different I am from them. I didn't attempt suicide because my mother was a crack addict who didn't want me. My father wasn't abusive. I didn't have a sibling die in a car accident. I was never really bullied either. I attempted suicide because, for the first time in years, I thought I had found something that could make me feel again... and after not feeling much at all for far too long, perhaps I went a bit overboard
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