I believe in protecting the heart at all costs.

I'm only seventeen years old, yet I'm already a monster. I didn't want to turn out this way. It just kind of happened without me even realizing it.

I guess my bitterness started at the beginning of my junior year. By that time, my favorite aunt had died, two of my best friends had turned on me, and I'd been rejected by anyone I'd ever liked. That's when I started wondering why people left me.

As my junior year progressed, I began to have breakdowns. I'd cry for hours, unable to stop the heart-wrenching sobs and whimpers. That winter my mom made an appointment for me to see a counselor. Talking to the counselor helped a bit, but not much. She suggested that I go see a psychiatrist. My mom made an appointment with the family doctor in hopes that he could recommend a psychiatrist. When we were at the doctor's appointment, the doctor wrongly diagnosed me with depression and prescribed me depression medication. Before my mom and I left, he promised to try and find a psychiatrist for us.

The first week of taking the depression meds I was a zombie. Once the medicine was in my system, though, I wasn't so zombielike. However, my family and my boyfriend noticed a change in me. I was even worse than I was before I started taking the depression meds. If my mood swings were bad before, they had become even worse. I was emotionally unstable and I hated it. I never knew what my mood was going to be.

My parents finally got ahold of a psychiatrist and scheduled an appointment. The day of the psychiatrist apoointment was the day I found my first sense of relief in months. I was diagnosed with bipolar and general anxiety. The psychiatrist took me off of the depression meds, because depression meds trigger episodes in bipolar people. I was prescribed new medication, this time for bipolar. The new meds only zombified me for a few days this time before actually helping to stabilize my mood swings.

As a result of the meds working, I had high hopes for my senior year. Unlike my junior year, my mood swings would be more in control and I would finally be able to enjoy myself. Senior year started and I realized that I was dead wrong. The one friend that I had left in school turned on me just like my last two best friends. I was left completely alone. Seeing all of my old friends being happy with their replacements of me just made my life at school that much more terrible. I began to hate going to school. The meds weren't enough to help me deal with school. All of my friends had left me, so I became bitter. I shut everybody out and refused to be nice or friendly unless absolutely necessary.

Everybody that ever left me ruined me. They were the ones that triggered my very first bipolar episodes. They turned me into a heartless, cruel person. I'm not proud of who I am now as a result of everything that happened, but I can't change. I have to be a bitter person. If I'm not, people might get in a break my heart all over again. Being bitter keeps people out which, in turn, protects my heart.

Even if it means hurting others, I'll do whatever it takes to protect my heart. And I do mean whatever it takes.