sorry it is very long, but it is part of my life story, and yes this is 100 percent true, and yes i am aware this is fanfiction but i really needed to vent. if you read this then you will get an understanding of who i am, and why i am that person. but remember this is only half my life story, i'm not ready to post that on the internet for all to read.
xoxo
disturbia
trying this was like trying a drug, the beginning to a new addiction. at first i wound up asking myself why i would stoop to this level, why not just move on and get over it. well i would have done that, if it was that easy. screwing up is a part of life and i learned it the hard way, but this, this little habit i started wound up feeling a thousand times better than i had ever imagined. i had alway been to scared to draw a lot of blood, so i wound up just grabbing a recyclable razor from the shower. i was way to frightened the first time so i ended up quickly sliding it side ways against my wrist, making a tiny scratch, barely visible. as my life progressed this little habit had spiraled out of control, i was no longer scared of what would happen if i went to deep. i began using tacks, knives, anything i could get my hands on. once i actually found a pocket knife and sliced my self so many times at a family get together, i had long sleeves so no one suspected a thing. i hadn't been getting along with my family all that well, and well one night i got in a fight with my sister and she said some hurtful things so i ran away from home. i only walked couple blocks before i noticed a car behind me, she jumped out and told me to get in the car, i refused. she kept yelling at me and saying hurtful things, and at this moment i really wanted to hurt her, so i blurted out that i had been cutting my wrists, words can't even describe the look on her face. my uncle and my sister's friend had been in the car and they heard everything. i walked back to my house and just cried, and to my surprise my sister had called my father to come and talk to me. this was a huge problem for me because of all the things i went through, and lets just say i hate him. well he came and i must say that was one of the most degrading moments in my life, i was so appalled by the way he spoke to me, like i was some sort of psychotic person, he kept telling me he would help me get help and i didn't want help especially not from him. he was the reason all of this was even happening in the first place. i ended up making him leave because i couldn't handle it anymore. my mom had been out of town for the night so she was just receiving phone calls and she couldn't help me, and she was the one person i wanted to talk to, but i couldn't. just thinking back on the months that followed that night make me ball my eyes out, when my father said the books i was ready were the cause of my downfall, and when my sister told my dad a story about how she accidently shoved her pencil in her arm when she was younger, her looked at me weird because i said i had done the same thing, but i hear him say, "i bet it wasn't on accident". that crushed me, i wanted to run and hide, but that wasn't all that i received. like the time i got in a fight with my sister and she told me i needed to go to a hospital or the time when i couldn't do anything without people second guessing what i was actually doing. or the time i will never forget in my entire life, when i was texting a really good friend, and we were joking around, but then some girl on his phone was being mean to my sister so i stood up for her and he told me to just cut my wrists and die. i started balling, and my sister read it and called him and his friend answered and said that he didn't send it and he went on and on about it. then towards the end of the conversation he said he was just going to take responsibility, i cried for so many days i can't even remember the number. then once at school i was presenting a speech in front of my class, and that is already very nerve-racking. so i went up there and my speech was unlike anyone else's in the class, theirs were all positive and mine as negative. so as i was ending my speech everyone just stared at me in disbelief and then they started making remarks that i was "emo" and that i cut my wrists, even one of my good friends. i cried myself to sleep that night, just thinking about offing myself, it didn't seem like anyone would care anyway. i started seeing this therapist lady and she did nothing but sit there and i didn't feel any progress. so i went to another and did group sessions with my mom and sister, but i never said the complete truth because i was too scared. months past and everyone thought i had stopped cutting, but they didn't know anything. i had actually been doing it, but not as often as i used to. no body would ever catch on and i would wear bracelets to school so no one would notice. nobody ever did. i thought i would never stop cutting because to me, it solved all my problems. i eventually gained enough balls to tell my best friend what i had been doing to myself. we both cried our eyes out and she made me promise her that i would never cut again, and that night i made a promise to myself, my best friend, and god. i have not cut since then, and i have slowly been pulling myself out of this dark nasty hole i seem to be stuck waist deep in.