(This is a true event that has happened to me but I have replaced names, dates, etc.)
Lately I had been feeling down. I didn't mean the kind of down that normal kids went through. The 'crying for a few and then moving on' kind of down. I mean the kind of down that swallows you whole, that crushes your lungs and makes every breath a struggle to survive. I had shrugged it off, but now that I look back, I realize just how bad of a decision tht was. I stopped in front of my locker, my heavy binder weighing my left arm down as I twisted the numbered knob just above the handle of the locker. I entered the first number, then twisted the knob backwards to the second number. All I needed now was the last digit. I had begun to spin it towards the last number that would unlock the cool metal and allow me to grab my things and leave this hellhole when I heard their voices. Frantically spinning the knob, my heart raced. I should've known! I was so close, but not close enough. My thick glasses landed a few feet away from my head that had bounced of the concrete floors. The world spun, finally stopping on the girl who had shoved me. "I thought I told you not to block my locker fat a**!" She smirked, knwoing I wouldn't do anything but wait until she was done. I slowly searched for my glasses, crawling around on the floor praying no one stepped on them. As the girl walked by me she smirked, kicking my side hard. The wind rushed out of my as I felt the pain shoot across my body, temporarily stunning me. That's going to have to be hid, great. I thought. Tears stung my eyes as I stood, eventually rolling down my cheeks as I slammed my locker closed and ran off. That night, I made a bad decision that will haunt me for life. I picked up the blade, skimming the tops of my hands just enough to draw blood. That was the first time. As the weeks progressed, the cuts grew deeper. My Focus teacher and English teacher noticed something was off with me. We took me into the hall, where the truth was revealed with many tear. That night I was planning suicide, but my teacher saved my life by asking the question everyone knew. He supported me through the process of healing, and even though I have lost contact with him, he has aways been a huge part of my heart, considering he cared when no one else would.