“From every wound there is a scar, and every scar tells a story. A story that says, I survived.” - Craig Scott.
Whether they be emotional or physical, every scar tells a story. Some scars hurt you, and some scars numb you from ever feeling again. Some stories aren’t pretty, some are sad and without a happy ending. Some stories have beautiful ending of inspiration and joy.
Well, I have an amazing story to tell you. One with bumps and bruises and everything in between. This story is mine. A story of scars and bruises, joy and sadness, and a fight that never ended.
It all started on my first day of school. No one talked to me, no one said “hi.” I sat alone at lunch and played alone on the playground. People bullied me and called me names. They called me fat and ugly. I always came home crying.
Finally, someone talked to me. Her name was Mackenzie. She was my best friend, a sister. But, she was like the ocean. She came and went as she pleased. I was like the sand. I always stayed by her side. I was a loyal and trustworthy friend. So was she… for a while.
Then, as we got older, she started to drift from me. She started to hang out with different people, different crowds. Everyone loved her, and no one even knew I existed. But, fortunately for me, she always came back. She always said she was sorry and I always forgave her.
Then came second grade. Still, I was bullied. I was called names and gossiped about. They didn’t even know me. Rumors were spread, and it only got worse from there. I cried at school, I cried at home. Sometimes I was sad for no reason. Symptoms of depression started to form.
Third and fourth grade were the same.
Let’s skip up to fifth grade, 2015. I was still sitting alone, playing alone, and crying everyday. It was that year when I was starting to seriously think about hurting myself. I even thought about suicide. Then, I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder.
I started to take anti-depressants but they didn’t help much. I was still depressed everyday. I locked myself in my room and cried. I cried during the day, and cried myself to sleep some nights. That only made the depression worse.
It became deeper and deeper throughout time.
The next year was middle school. At the beginning of the year, I was still always alone. Then some of my old friends started to talk to me again! I sat with them at lunch and even had some classes with them!
Then, I made new friends! My current best friend and sister, Lisa, invited me to stay the night at her house! Things were going well for me! I learned to love school and all it had to offer. But, unfortunately, there were still people who bullied me. That triggered my depression.
In seventh grade, I knew who to sit with and hang out with. But, that’s when I started to turn on myself. Even though I had great friends who told me I was smart and beautiful and to ignore the bullies, I still listened and started to think they were right.
I started to cut. I was deep in depression. I thought about suicide and even researched it. One day, I took the blade from a pencil sharpener. I locked the door to my bathroom and I cut and cut deep. I didn’t mean to. But I hoped I didn’t make it. I cried on the bathroom floor and bled. I wanted to die. It was one of the scariest moments of my entire life!
That year, my mind was twisted and warped with all I had been through. I made bad decisions and got in trouble a lot. I hoped this feeling would go away but it never did.
Then came eighth grade. That’s this year. This year I am homeschooled. It has made my depression better but a new type has formed, Loneliness. I am lonely and miss my friends.
I still think about going back to school. Even though I know it’s not good for me, I still want to. Next year, I will be a freshman. I want to be in school for that. I want to be in school for all of it.
But I am still here and alive. I know I have it better than I realize and I feel much better than I did all those years ago.
I’m not saying my depression is gone. It is still here and trying to bring me down. How am I still here, you ask? I am still here because I fought. I fought a fight that never ended. I still fight that same fight everyday.
So here’s to all of us that hurt, all of us that struggle, and all of us that want to give up. I have one word for you, DON’T. Don't give up, don't stop fighting, and don't stop believing you can win.
This story is true, every word. This story will never end. It will continue until the end of time. But I will never stop fighting the fight. The fight that never ended.