A letter, from Ellie to Sammy.
I feel like I need to write this. Honestly, I'm not even sure if I want to send it. But to keep me sane, I will vent.
You honestly were my best friend. I felt like I could go to you with anything, I thought I could trust you. Sharing my shit with you wasn't easy dude. And honestly, I'm pretty fucked up.
My ever growing list off problems would include cutting, bullying, if you want to call it that, my parents and the issues I have with them, all of which you know about. Things you didn't know about? Well, my self injury problem was more than just cutting. I burned myself, pulled hair, anything really that would inflict pain onto my body. I also took up drinking. And I faced an eating disorder. Bulimia.
I'm not sure why I did the things I did, the SI for revenge and reliving stress. Drinking to get away. Bulimia to be pretty.
But it was all okay, because I had people behind me. Even if they didn't know all my skeletons in my closet, I still knew that I had something to hold on to. Something to keep me going- love. As cliche as it sounds, that's what kept me here. I have un-diagnosed depression and the thought of suicide is always on my brain, lurking, even at my happiest times.
I never attempted it, only seriously considered it. Sometimes, when I'd get upset, I'd take walks onto the overpass on the highway and look down. I knew if I climbed the metal fence meant to stop people like me and jumped I'd hurt people. So I didn't.
We'd get into fights alot. But some of the closest of friends do. I thought of you as my sister, and I let you into my very close circle of people whom I trusted. You, whether you knew it or not, were my counselor, sister, closest friend. I thought it would be that way forever.
No matter how much I said I was done with you, in my heart, I knew I would come back. I guess I'm just loyal to my friends.
But that changed. It may seem insignificant to you, but to me, it changed my entire view of things. You told the thing I was most ashamed of. Cutting, which I tried so hard to hide, using makeup for the scars, cremes that took the scars away, long sleeves, even securing my bracelets with double sided tape to prevent them from slipping.
I'm not sure who knows now. But suddenly, I feel more alone.
Before I felt as if I could be two different people. The bubbly, random, fun me, and the crazy one who hurt herself and drank and threw up her food in a pathetic attempt to be skinny. But now that the secret was out, I wasn't sure who knew and who didn't. Supposedly you told only one other, but I'm not sure.
Now, I feel as if every time someone whispers its about me. The fat girl who cuts herself and tries to be "emo" or whatever you want to call it.
Everytime I change for gym, I feel like people are staring, hoping to catch a glimpse at my scars.
I just wanted to let you know how much you affected me. I just wanted to let you know who I really am.
I still, for some crazy reason, want to be your friend. To patch things up, and pretend like this never happened. But it's too late now.
So you go ahead, live your life. The life I secretly wanted to have for the longest. And I'll live mine, on my destructive path, praying to a god I don't think exists that one day, I will get better and that I don't die trying. I'm not trying to be dramatic, I just, well... I'm not sure what I want.
I just had to put it out there, to let you know the whole side of the truth.