Theme By: Destroyer & Sleepless

People have always judged me.

People have always judged me. Correction, they’ve always misjudged me.

I have always been labeled as the weird emo kid because I’ve suffered with depression for the last several years. People have labeled me as a liar and think that I’m faking illness because it hasn’t been diagnosed yet. It hasn’t been diagnosed yet because my mom doesn’t care about my health enough to take me to our doctor, even though I’ve been sick for the last three years. I have always been teased for my freckles and my weight. I’ve always believed that I was ugly. During elementary school and some of high school, I was being made fun of for cutting myself, which I did because of my depression. Because it helped, and because I wanted someone to notice that I was drowning in my pain and neglect. During each cutting session, I would cut my arms and legs 80+ times with a kitchen knife. No one noticed until one day. My friends asked me about it at lunch time, in eighth grade. In my stupid attempt to get help and support from them, I revealed all of my cuts and scars, by rolling up my sleeves and pant-legs. There were many recent ones, from days before. All of them horrified, but they offered no support, really. They seemed scared and disgusted. I felt alienated. One girl told our teacher and she talked to me about it privately in a guidance office. I ended up crying. She asked if I did it for control and I said yes, but I don’t think that that was the reason. It was because I was too afraid to ask for help, so I displayed my S.O.S. signs. She told me that she was required to report it, but that anything we said was between us. I trusted her after that. She was my hero and inspiration. She still is. My parents were angered and upset with me. They had had no idea, but they didn’t offer much support. They didn’t understand. Sometime afterward, I had continued, and my best friend at the time had saw the new cuts on my arms in the school yard during recess. Instead of asking me about it, hugging me, or having a GMH moment, she slapped me across the face. Twice. Hard. A teacher saw but didn’t really do anything about it. After that, I sulked in deeper depression and withdrew from my friends and family. I felt like I was worse off; drowning and suffering, and it was worse because I was teased for my “weakness”, which didn’t improve the situation. Kids would come up to me at school and ask me if I cut myself. Kids I didn’t know. Kids I had never talked to in my entire life. They would laugh and gossip about me. Wow, how I wish they had understood. I was only thirteen. I developed anxiety and fear of being around people. I was afraid to talk to people. I was afraid of being looked at. I felt like people were dissecting me and analyzing my every move. I grew paranoid. My depression grew worse. I grew a short fuse. I grew angry and bitter and cynical. I hated everyone and I hated everything. I wanted to die. I thought about it. I thought about it long and hard. And, even when I attempted to attempt, I realized that I wouldn’t do it. Not because I couldn’t, but because it wasn’t right. It wasn’t what I wanted. What I wanted was an escape; so I distanced myself and grew cold and lonely. I liked being alone; no one could hurt me that way. I was safe; I wouldn’t hurt myself. I knew me; I knew better than to mess with my head. But what I really wanted was acceptance. I wanted to be loved and held; I wanted support. I wanted someone to genuinely care for me and care about me.

When I entered high school, I met someone; someone who I now consider to be the sister I never had. I always used to joke that she was the sister God never gave me. I’m an Atheist. And now I know why I was never given her, and why I had to “find” her. It’s because my family’s fucked up, and I needed to create my own family away from them. And so we became sisters. When we first met, she hated my guts. Why? Because I wouldn’t get on a mat for a game for high school orientation and so we lost. I was on her team. But we found out that we had all of the same classes. We talked. We got along. We had many things in common. We both grew; we’re both adults now, for a seventeen and sixteen-year-old. When I showed her my cuts, I did the same thing I did in grade eight. I think that she was surprised and horrified, because I was kind of bragging about it. I didn’t know what else to do. She made me promise to stop, I think. From that day on, we became tighter, and she helped me quit my addiction to self-harm. I’ve been clean for 698 days so far, and counting. You can see my counter here. In 32 days, I will have been clean for 2 years on the dot.

I’ve grown a lot over the course of high school. People say that a lot will happen, but they never specify. I guess that it’s because it’s different for everyone. Nikki has helped me grow into a better, caring, loving person. She became my shoulder to cry on. She lets me whine to her about everything and she never once complains. She compliments me all the time and tells me to keep my head up. She helps me through all of my relationship, family, home, school, and social problems. She became really upset when I had decided to move to Australia, and that’s when I realized that we’re basically twins; where one is, the other has to be. I’m not moving there anymore. Instead, once we’re done high school, and we’ve saved up enough money, we’re touring the United States and finding a place to live. We’ll probably both go to college/university. I’m pretty sure that we’re going to keep saving up money and traveling. I have plans to see the world, and nothing is going to stop me. I’d rather not go alone, but I’m not going to give up my dreams. It’s like we both say, “Do what makes you happy.”

Before I met Nikki, I was a different person. I swore that I would never marry. I swore that I would never have children. I hated children. I hated people. I swore that I would be alone. I swore that I would never need anyone and that no one would ever need me. I swore off love. I swore off friendship, miracles, faith, hope, trust, loyalty and honesty. I swore off living, basically. But now, I’ve realized that there is so much to live for. There is beauty around every corner. I’ve basically become a hippie, minus the Amish-ness, weed, and tree-hugging. But, I’ve become an activist. I preach good morals, such as equality, love for people of all sexual orientations, helping the homeless, battered, and the broken. I now can’t wait to fall in love and get married — although if that never happens, I won’t be heartbroken. I now want children. I want a large family. I want to adopt at least several kids. I want most of them to be foreign. I want to adopt an Asian baby and an African baby. I want to adopt children from broken families. I want to be a foster parent. I want to create a no-kill shelter for animals. I want to build shelters for the homeless, and I want to build shelters for battered and abused women and children. I want to build a shelter for abused, broken, and runaway teens. I want to help people. I want to save them. I want to give them the second chance that I was given. I want to build homes in Africa, and help with floods in Australia; I want to help with tornadoes/twisters in Oklahoma. I want to help people affected by earthquakes and hurricanes. I want to save children and people alike from starvation, dehydration, depression, and poverty. I want to save the environment. I want to go green. I want to save our animals.

I am a better person now. And I’m not going to do these things to “make myself seem good” or to “have a legacy” or something to “put my name to”. I’m going to do these things because it’s the right thing to do. I’m going to do these things because any human being would do the same. I’m going to do these things because everyone deserves a second chance, and everyone deserves to be loved the way I was never loved as a child. I am healing, but I will never be healed. I don’t think I could be. Maybe with time and age, but I’m skeptical. I was a spoiled child; but I was the child who got things so that they would leave their parents alone. While their parents got high and drunk. While their dad was gone all the time, and their mother struggled to balance two kids and such.

Honestly, I’m proud of myself. I am a good person. And I’m proud of the things that I’m going to do. I’ve found who my true family is: my friends. So, here’s a thank you to everyone who has truly helped me: Nikki, Melanie, Jena, Tyler, Jenny, Kaitlyn, Nathan, Derek, Moffatt, Zack, Darian, Hannah, Courtney, Caleb, Ashley, Heaven, Alyssa, Deven, Toxic, Kae, Dusty, Micheal, Mike, Jasmine, Adam, Denise, Brent, Megan, Mike, Josh, Braedon, Darnell, Bindner, Tom, Berta, Rob, Robert, Chris, Jimbo, Ian, Ben, Lobo, Ian Vincent, Christopher, Michael, Mallori, Lisa, Amanda, Skyler, Lucass, Anita, Dallass, Ariadny, Madi, Dani, Alex, Tyler, Steven, Juel, Coleton, Steve-o, Hia, Christina, Hannah (Spazz ;)), Izzy, Kaitlin, Colleen, Kadie, Mama Gemdread, Kasy, Phillip (sp?), Lanah, Kelsey, Kelsey, Gabi, Nate, Pablo, Scoof, Meriah, Kylie, Sabrina, Dalton, Dalton, Grant, Dylan, Bailey, Haylee, Bailee, Sam, Samuel, Jessica, Caitlin, Kirk, Markus, Zach, Tommy, Zacky, Maxy, Ashley-Jayne, Ashley, Mel (DaangMel?), Seth/Will, Sharon, and everyone else who I haven’t named because my memory is shit and you’re probably following me and reading this, and thinking that I’m a twat. But I love you.

This was my second greatest secret, and now you know.

  1. ashemo posted this