And I shared a lot with you this time.

June 1, 2011
By , Hamden, CT
You would really think that knowing that there are others, the same age as you, going through and hurting just like you are. That somewhere out there, millions of other girls and boys hurt and think the same exact things. Well, knowing this, then why do I still feel so alone? I hear stories, everywhere, how so many people have dug out of the deep hole they were in just because they knew they weren’t alone. Well, maybe I’m not alone, but just pretty godd*mn lonely. It just feels like there is absolutely no one to talk to. Or anyone who would understand.

I don’t understand myself, to be honest. The thoughts I have, the ideas, the feelings. I don’t know how to put those into words to express them to someone. Even if I tried, it would be a mess. Kind of like the inside of my mind.

I feel…crazy. I don’t know why, I just do.

Oh, you’d like me to elaborate? Okay…

Well, you see, there was this one time in the sixth grade where we were waiting for our teacher to come back from the bathroom when all of a sudden there was a poke on my back and a whisper, “fat cow.” Ever since then, looking in the mirror, a fat cow is all I can see.

That’s not enough? How could that not be…ugh hold on, I have more.

Mentally, I erased all of fifth grade and below. I couldn’t handle it then, and I wouldn’t be able to handle it just thinking about it. All I remember is being pushed around in the hallway being called “WHALE” and having people say “WATCH OUT, HEAVY LOAD.” But, besides that, seventh grade I was a wallflower. And it was probably a good year. Still, I continued to hear people whisper. I just…didn’t show I cared that much.

Eighth grade, I learned how to use eyeliner. I looked like a raccoon. Thankfully, I made a friend that year. Then another. And another. Then, one who I believed to be my closest friend, stabbed me in the back, spread rumors about me, and tore me apart. The rest of the year I was back to being a wallflower, still trying to grow, but also still trying to hide myself. I wanted to blend in. I wanted people to not see me. I wanted to be hidden.

Then, that summer, everything went downhill.

You want me to explain? Okay.

Well, the three people I considered my best friends, were never around. One went to camp all summer, one was in and out of the state almost every other day and the other never wanted to hang out with me. I ended up in an endless routine of sleep. Mostly just to waste time.

I rarely went outside, never swam (it was my favorite), and never sang or drew anymore. I just kind of lost interest in the things I loved.

By the time freshman year rolled around, I felt low. I started talking to someone weekly. My grades went up, then down, then up then down.

Are my grades important, you say? Well of course they are, my future depends on them.

My future? Yes, I worry about that a lot. It’s constantly on my mind. If I screw up my high school education, I screw up my college choices, and that affects my work and the rest of my life. It all starts here, and everything comes back to high school.

No, I’m not smart. I try. I do. But sometimes I give up. I just don’t have the effort or the motivation. It’s hard to find that.

Oh, right, sorry, I went off topic from where I started from, I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I am so sorry.

So, from the beginning; shouldn’t I be feeling better? I’ve been taking Zoloft for what, 2 and half months now? I have tried to stop cutting…but that urge is still there. The thoughts that scare me are still here. Getting help is supposed to make me not scared. What do I do when I start to feel more afraid?

I worry about the future not because of my grades now, but because of the way I feel right now could get worse over time. The way I am got worse from where I was last year. Next year I could be ready for suicide.

Suicide? Yes I’ve thought about it.

How? How I would do it? I wouldn’t want to hang myself. Or jump of a bridge. I want something that would be a promise for death. Something sort of painless, something where I can feel myself becoming numb to the point where I just cant feel anymore. I don’t want something fast. I want a slow, painless death so I can feel the numbness for as long as I can.

Why do I say that? Well, because its kind of like the sensation I get when I cut.

Do I cut? Is that even… yes I do cut. I have been cutting for…four months? I think. Not everyday, just kind of … every other day.

What is the sensation? Well it’s kind of like a slight pain almost, but then its like my mind frees itself and all I can feel is nothing.

Yes, nothing. I love that feeling. Its interesting how you could feel nothing, but feel yourself feeling nothing.

What happens? Well, I don’t know. Its kind of like, I close my eyes and all I can see is emptiness. Emptiness and nothingness and numbness all go together so well.

I don’t know why I enjoy. Its just… when I don’t feel that sensation, I usually go about the day feeling very heavy, and its like my mind is all locked up. It just feels good to free it once and a while.





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