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Hello. My name is May. I have brown hair, though I'm a natural blond. I'm a little on the heavy side, but I'm not obese.
I look "normal" on the outside, but the inside is a dark and scary place.
My family is not what you would consider "normal" either. It consists of a mother, a step-father, a brother, a sister-in-law, a nephew, and a niece; all in one house. My parents are, to me, insane; not the good kind either. My mother works from 7:30AM to 5:30PM, so I hardly get to see her. My step-father, whom i don't particularly care for, is always on call for his job on oil rigs. My brother doesn't necessarily have a job right now and tries to act like my father. My sister-in-law is high strung, bossy, annoying and tries to act like my mother. So, basically, I have two sets of parents. Yay me!
My birth father (my mom calls him my "sperm donor") was a Naval Officer in the Vietnam War and got my mother pregnant then ran off. I never met him until I was twelve, then only because his current wife made him. I haven't seen or heard from him since.
My Grandfather was NOT a good man. He would touch me in places that no child should ever be touched. After he was done with me, he would cry and tell me that he loved me. I never knew it was wrong, so I never told anyone. You just never expect someone who supposed to love you to do something like that.
My school life isn't much better. I really have two people that i would consider "friends", Ally and Amber. Those two brighten my day, at least when I'm with them. Most people generally keep their distance, I don't know why. My grades suck, except for three classes, and those are electives. School is not my forte.
There is also this guy that I'm madly in love with. He and I dated for about three years. But before then, we were best friends for almost four years. When we dated, it was the best time of my life. I was so happy with him; he completed me. But soon things were different, we were constantly fighting, we hardly got to see each other because he lives half an hour away, and our relationship got strained. So we decided to just break up and get rid of the stress. I soon missed him terribly and wanted him back, but he already had a girlfriend.
One night, I'm in the shower; shaving, you know normal hygiene stuff. I started thinking about how I hear all of these stories about some people who cut (I know, "That's not smart!") and how they all feel better after they've cut. The idea pops into my head, "Why not try it? I'll only do it once, just to see how it feels." I realize that I still have the razor in my hand. I rinse the hair out until it's all gone. I set the blade against my wrist, press, and slide it across my skin. The sight of that thick, red blood running down my arm and the slight pain of the cut, somewhat compensate my inner pain. I like it. I add one more cut and savor the sight and pain.
I keep cutting for months. Soon it isn’t enough anymore. The pain of people avoiding me, my family ignoring me, and the guy I'm madly in love with not loving me back, drain me of my will to live. One day, I tell Ally and Amber that I love them. They know nothing if what I've been doing or what I'm about to do. I write each of them a letter explaining everything, address them, and send them through the mail. The next thing i do will end the pain forever.
I take a new pair of scissors, sit on my bed against the wall, and give myself three deep cuts on each of my wrists. Then I glide the blood stained blade across my throat from one side the other.
My last thought before I die? My Great-grandmother's porcelain dolls on a shelf across my room. With my dying breath I say, "I'm coming Mamaw." For once in my life, I'm totally at peace.