The Game of Life

September 10, 2009
By Anonymous

It was seventh grade when everything started to get bad, i don't know what my problem was and i still have trouble bringing all this bad to memory. I'll try my best. I had some good friendships started and i was tight with my parents. I believe it all started one day after my Christmas party, i had a couple friends over and we found a razor. I suppose you could call me maniac depressed, i'm not sure. So we pretended that we were all teenagers in an hospital, so we acted like we had major problems; all joking around. At the time. My friend was suppose to be the managment leader of the game and she punched my in the lip, it bled and for some reason, i liked the feeling. So i pretended to cut myself with the razor and i guess that's what started it all. I officially because who i was going to be.
Not long after i was fully cutting and everyone was seeing the changes that i was going through. It had become a serious problem and by the time i was in 8th grade i had started seeing a therapist. I was put on medication and was told to bring my life together. After mostly everyone knew what was going on, they would send me letters about dying and cutting to make me feel worse about the situation. They would sit in class and take objects over their wrists to make it a big joke. I was becoming more and more unhappy with each passing day; they would joke and i would laugh along to act like i was normal. So finally i decided to play a prank, call the suicide hotline and pretend i wanted to die.
That was a mistake, i ended up breaking down and actually telling them what was going on, they called me hour after hour, day after day to make sure i had not taken my life. Finally i was fed up with it all. It was the day i was with one of the friends from the game and i got another call from them. The guy on the other line sounded younger than the others. Yet, he understood me, he had been through this too. I told him i had a meeting with my therapist tomorrow and that i would talk to her about it.
When i thought about it, everyone at the office would know what i did and i would be carted away somewhere to confess my life. No going to happen. I had planned this carefully, but the suicide hotline had tracked me, i got into my favorite clothes and filled the bathtub with gasoline, i stepped in and held the match, all too soon things were going at a much faster rate. There was a knock on the door and a crash. I lit the match and dropped it. The police came running to me just in time for the flame to barely touch me. I was dropped to the ground and taken to the center right away. I sat and waited for my therapist as my parents were informed. First my setp-mother, then my mother, then my father. I was taken back to a room where i was told to sit down. A man and my therapist were sitting with dozens of papers. My mother came in and filled them out, i talked alone with the man about what had happened and he ran his fingers through his hair. He told me that i was going to a place to get help, real help. I started crying then as i was let out and down into the room where my step-mother was, she was crying too. I went home with the man and my mother to get some clothes, i was taken to the place where i would be staying.
The place was weird, i had a roommate and to make this short, things didn't work there. I switched rooms and was on constant watch with the floor monitors. My parents came to visit and i was checked for misuse of drugs and such. Weeks passed by and after not talking in any groups or therapy sessions, my father was able to get me out. I was not better, i didn't die, i just wanted to be alone and go back home.
To say the least of this story, i'm trying to get out that what i did was wrong and that it hurt others including me. This is not the end of the story, or my life, i have been through more after this happened but i'm afraid that i don't have time to go over it. If i did, that would be another story. If you think that this is normal, your right. It is. If you think this is rushed, your right, i have much detail that i didn't go into about my stay or the suicide attempt for the sake of time. If you would like more information on my story, you can just ask. I'm not afraid of who i am. I'm just me.
To close this, i want to say: that i now help friends at school with suicidal problems and home issues. If you are having trouble with your life, don't be afraid to speak up, for it may just get worse over time. If you have suicidal thoughs or impulses, get help. Remember this: that you are not only saving yourself from hurt, but you are hurting others. My friends encouraged me to get this out to help other people. No need to feel sorry, every teenager goes throuh this and we all know it. Thank you for listening.

The author's comments:
This is a true story, with less graphic details. If you feel this way, you need to talk to someone. You only have one chance to get it right.

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