Hello, I’m Kassie. I’m 15 years old, living in HELL. It all started on October 30th, 1998, also known as the day I arrived into this horrid place. I was born in a small town in Indiana. The two people who gave me 23 chromosomes each were an unmarried couple who never thought they’d bring a baby into the world became the parents of me. I was born as Kassie Inez (leaving my last name private.) My father wanted to name me Presley, after (not shockingly) Elvis Presley, who was his idol, his role model. Unfortunately, my mom being the one who’d carry and birth me, chose the name Cassie from some Soap Opera she’d watch and still does, called “The Young and The Restless”, but decided to make my name a bit different by changing the C to a K. Inez was my Grandma’s middle name, and I luckily got my dad’s last name (yay!) I had a big family I was born into. My dad had been previously married, which gave me 4 siblings, two brothers, two sisters. My mom had dated a man before that a while back, who was not in the picture, but helped give my mom two children, one of each, who were 2 years and 4 months apart. My four silblings on my father’s side were grown-ups, with children of their own. On the other hand, my two siblings from my mom were under the age of 10. I almost died twice in my 1st year, crazy but sad right? Once was when I was lying on the floor by my Grandma, who was sitting in her rocking chair. It tipped over, and she fell on me, unable to get up due to the chair pushing in on her, making me unable to gain oxygen at the moment. My dad was working, as well as my mom, so my Grandma and Grandpa babysat me and my two siblings, but my grandfather was outside, mowing the grass, so inside was just me, my Grandma, and my siblings. Luckily my sister was old enough to realize our Grandma and I were stuck and struggling, so she went to my Grandpa to stop what he was doing to help save us. My Grandpa did make it on time, saving my Grandma and I both that day, me never forgetting and being thankful that he helped save our lives so we could live life that was at the time, unaware to my small self. The second time, was when my mom fed me the wrong bottle, one being an old one my brother had found hidden underneath the couch by his Hot Wheels car. He sat it by the correct and fresh bottle, my mom accidently grabbing the spoiled, yucky one. I got a food poisoning from this, which almost took my life at the age of three months. Luckily, I recovered from being given medicines and treatment. My first few years of life are blank to be honest, me being seemingly blind and unaware as I was as a small baby. When I was 5, my family and I lost our Grandma due to her heart condition. It was a tragic incident, and we all miss and still do continue to miss her dearly. (Keep resting in paradise, Grandma.♡) A year after my Grandma passed away, I was 6 years old, and finally old enough to start school. I attended Kindergarten in the morning, and around 12:30 we switched, to where the other half (My teacher’s afternoon Kindergarten class) would be dropped of at our school, and us morning children be dismissed by our parents. I did struggle a bit in Kindergarten. We had to learn about coins, and how much they’re worth, and I failed to remember how much each was. It was hard, because my best friend and neighbor, Dylan, was really good at remembering them and would always get small gifts for getting it right. I remember once, I was really upset about failing the coin test again, so he gave me the prize he got for doing well, then he ended up helping me learn the amount each coin has. In the 1st Grade, I met two new people, Tyra and Kaysie. They were in the afternoon class in Kindergarten so I didn’t know them. I remember seeing Tyra’s name on the board, trying to pronounce it. Kaysie ended up telling me, and then Tyra came over saying “Hi!” to me, sitting down by Kaysie and I. We talked for a bit, and we became really great friends. (Yay for starting friendships! :D) I met lots of people that year, including my best friend, Kylee. We were super close, inseparable. We had lots of sleep overs, adventures, and lots of fun together. During 1st Grade, I did have Mary and Jasper, too! They were my two best friends as well. We’d always hang out together. Mary had two older siblings like me, our sisters being the same age and friends as well, the same with our brothers. Jasper had a younger brother, and that was it. Since Jasper and Mary lived next door to each other, it was easy for us all to get together to have fun adventures. I lived 5 minutes away, so whenever we’d want to hang out Jasper or Mary would call me and my mom would drive me to Jasper’s house, and we’d hang out. We were never separated, no one could separate us. In 2nd Grade, I found out I had a skill in writing, while everyone else was writing stuff a usual 2nd grader would write, but I was writing in a more uniquely advanced version. Every time my class would have a story to write, my teacher and family expected it to be super good, and it was a lot of pressure for me. During this time, I remember my mom and her high school bestie reuniting and reconnecting, her four children and my two siblings and I becoming pals as well. I became great friends with her daughter Kylie. My dad and my mom’s best friend’s husband became buddies, too. So we were a whole gang, just separate families I suppose. We did lots together. Vacationed together, spent endless weeks at their house, going to different and new places together, sharing backyard adventures with them, staying up late telling funny jokes, having games of hide ‘n seek, making things for each other during ‘arts and crafts’ time. Us kids had lots of fun, but the adventure ended every weekend, where I’d go to stay with my mom and dad at our small apartment in Ohio. My dad worked at a factory up in Ohio, so he stayed there. My mom stayed with us mostly, but did miss seeing my dad. One night, I didn’t feel like traveling at such a late night and asked if I could stay the night with them, and us head to Ohio the next morning. This caused a very big argument in my mom and their family, tearing us apart. During this time, I lived with my Grandfather, and siblings. But since my dad had a place in Ohio, my two siblings and I packed up and we lived there. That was during the summer, but when it came near time to start school, me about to go into 3rd Grade, we decided to move back to my Grandpa’s to keep us in the same local school district. I entered the 3rd grade at the elementary school I always had attended, and nothing was changed, except that Jasper got held back in 2nd grade, which separated him, Mary, and I. I met Samantha, who I became great friends with. I also met Lybbi, who would make fun of me and my friends. In the middle of 3rd grade, we got two new students, Ryley, who moved here from Canada, and Rikki. Us three became best friends in a short amount of time, and never separated. In September, life was great. It was one month before my 9th birthday, and I couldn’t be more excited. On this day, it was my dad and I’s “Father-Daughter day” where we’d go do fun activities with each other, just us two. For some odd reason, my Grandpa had picked me and my siblings up this day. We pulled up to his home, and there were cops scattered in his yard. I saw my mom in tears. I didn’t know what had happened until I asked a police man what had happened. He asked me what my name is, and then proceeded to tell me my dad, my best friend, he had passed away earlier that day. I fell into depression after that, took a month off of school, and completely fell apart. My mom, however, was the happiest person on earth. She was working at a local Walmart, and became very close to a co-worker named Craig. They began dating a month after becoming very good friends. My mom and him would come home, which at the time was my Grandpa’s home, at 2 a.m., even though they both were able to clock out of work around 10. My Grandpa got fed up with my mom not only coming home 4 hours after she’d leave works, not giving us a call to tell us she’d be with Craig, but also inviting a not well-known guest into our home. My Grandpa finally made the decision of putting his foot down and telling my mom, “You either come home after work, or make a call so the kids aren’t wakened or worried as well for me, or you move out.” So my mom and Craig, which Craig was still living with his adoptive parents and adopted sister, decided to buy a house together. They found a beautiful house, with enough room for us kids, them, and a guest or two. It was near the local “Pee-Wee football field” which had a small skate park(and I l-o-v-e-d that!) and a small playground. It also had a nice back yard, it was near the gymnastic/dance studio which I was very into, and a park that including a picnic area and a bigger two-piece playground set; one side was with the little slides and tunnels, swings. The other was the area with the monkey bars. The place seemed p e r f e c t. And instead of buying a home surrounded by so many positives, they bought a house nearby that was a total negative. There were kids my age around, who went to the local elementary school, which basically was filled with snobs, and those kids bullied me. We lived in an area where we had the smallest back yard on earth, and the front of the house was just sidewalk and road. We didn’t have a driveway, and the parking areas were across the road, so we’d almost get ran over every time we’d have to enter our car, or were trying to enter our home. It was super cramped already, with only 3 bedrooms, 1 bathroom, and 5 of us in the house. My mom and Craig, who soon became her fiancé, took the Master (obviously), my sister taking the 2nd biggest room, leaving my brother and I left. There was a room the size of a closet, and that was it, which I ended up getting. His room? It was what would be the dining room. Things got even more cramped when my mom got pregnant, and had my little brother. My brother and I had to go to the local elementary school, me in 4th grade, him for 6th. I didn’t make many friends, but got bullied a lot. A lot of kids were really motivated to get good grades because the teachers rewarded them, but it was different for me. Craig had started abusing us kids, and on top of that I was being bullied. My depression only got worse, and most of my teachers didn’t take time to understand. The only one who did was my English teacher. I got detention a lot, so she’d take me into her classroom, where she’d help me work on writing. She even helped me get set up in a writing contest, which I won! She was a great help to my writing career, and if she wouldn’t have taken me in during HER lunch time, I wouldn’t be as great of a writer as I try to be today. (Thank you! Even though you won’t ever read this story.) The abuse continued for a few months, until my cousin made a call to CPS (Child Protective Services.) They got involved to what happened behind closed doors in our home. We had to go to group counseling sessions with other teens and kids like us, and my mom and Craig had to go to Parenting Classes. My brother and I had to receive personal counselors as well. My two older siblings and I were removed, as my little brother was still an infant so stayed with my mom and Craig, and were taken to live with my Grandpa. During this, my brother was diagnosed with ADHD and bipolar. He became very violent during this time. He was taken to mental hospitals, doctors, and even juvenile. He was to unstable for my Grandpa to handle, and was later taken into the custody of my Aunt. My mom and Craig lost their jobs, and all the money they had went toward trying to keep everything, which Craig eventually gave up on. He left my mom stranded at the home, with endless bills that were yet to be paid. They lost their car, house, furniture, basically all they had. Due to my mom doing what she did before, and how it affected us, my Grandpa had told my mom she was not allowed to stay with us. She lived with various friends, and at a homeless shelter for a while. Craig got my little brother, and they moved in with his mom and dad. It was over the summer before I started 6th grade, and I was going back to my elementary school. I got ahold of my old friends, who probably forgot I even existed because it had been 2 years, and told them I’d be starting school with them again. (Woo!) The first day I actually was really anxious (fuck you, anxiety) and stood out of my homeroom for about 10 minutes, until the teacher next door asked if I need help. It was fun, getting to catch up with all my friends. I even made friends with Lybbi, or so I thought. One day, near the end of the school year, she asked for my agenda, which I didn’t understand why but gave it to her, and she wrote that I love ___ (keeping it anon., but it was one of my best guy friends) and I thought he was hot, which was a total LIE. She then proceeded to tell and show the WHOLE class. Everyone pointed at me and laughed, which made me have a panic attack. Worst day ever. She continued to bully me, getting my iPod taken away, getting me in detention, stealing things from me, etc. Finally the school year was over, and it was summer! I had recently became friends with my Grandpa’s neighbors’ daughter, and we hung out a lot. Well I invited her and Rikki over, where she proceeded to tell Rikki I talk about her, which was a LIE. Rikki, her, and I weren’t friends anymore, and we broke contact for a while. I didn’t really have any friends, well not many. So when school came back around, and I knew I’d be heading to middle school (or junior high), which meant the possibility of new friends. I was excited to see the few friends I had when I was attending the other elementary school, and the friends I had seen from the main elementary school I had gone too. I entered the 7th Grade, and Rikki and I were friends again (I told her what had happened). I was bullied, still, but never let it get to me. I was in an advanced literature class, which was super fun! But with lots going on, it made it hard for me to really focus on my work. Math was a really difficult subject for me. I had a hard time understanding it, and my math teacher wasn’t helping me. So finally, I got moved to a math class for people who need extra help learning. I got good grades in math and literature, passed gym, and did a decent job in social studies and science. But later in the year, the bullying worsened, and I just lost all interest in my work. My family pushed me into getting good grades, so I made up all work that I failed to do, and did the work I had to do. At school, I skipped my 4th period due to bullies. I eventually got in trouble for this, getting Friday school, and not being able to leave the class. That summer, I ended up packing my things and moved in with my mom and her fiancé. 8th Grade started, and I just became severely depressed. I started cutting myself, at first with scissors, then with my razor, and later on getting access to blades. I cut myself because it made me feel alive, when I was dead on the inside. People bullied me, physically and verbally. I gave them what they wanted, I showed them the sad, depressed side of a person who once was happy. They saw me as a person who had a lot going for them, who was happy and confident, and they wanted that I guess, so they drained that from me. I remember endless nights of me crying, because I thought I had did something wrong. I lost a lot of friends because they didn’t want to be near or seen with someone most people didn’t like. I continued to self-harm for a year, and attempted suicide as well. I did eventually make the best guy friend though. Arron and I began to talk one day, because I actually liked him a bit, so I messaged him and we began talking. We’ve had our nights where we stayed up until 6 in the morning on weekends talking to each other about everything. Anyways, 8th Grade ended, and over the summer a lot happened. I was still self-harming, very suicidal, and just in deep depression. I lost a lot of my “friends” and most of my family had pushed me away. Over the summer, I kept cutting and attempting suicide. But I did however gain another baby brother named Eli, which was good. That basically sums up my summer. 9th grade started, and I was still depressed. More people bullied me, making me suffer even more. People would follow me in the hallway, throwing things at me, calling me things. They’d come to my locker and shove all my stuff out, watching me have to crawl around a busy hallway picking up everything. Sometimes I’d get my locker door slammed on my arms. In gym I never participated because no one wanted me on their team, or near them at all. In choir, everyone would whisper or say things out loud about me. In algebra, these girls would sit there and make fun of me. Biology was the same, so all of my classes were never enjoyable. I got tired of this, and one night took between 20 to 30 pills, leaving me ill for a while. I talked to my mom and her new fiance, them letting me switch to online schooling. I thought that I was free from the pain. Wrong. I got messages on Facebook, Kik, and Ask. People told me to kill myself, hang myself, drink bleach like Amanda Todd, slit my wrists like some emo freak, that I’m a big whore, a skank, a useless piece of shit. That no one even wants me here anymore, that I’m worthless shit, that I’m a shitty excuse of a person. That I shouldn’t live anymore. That I’m lucky that I’m not still attending my old high school or else I’d be getting beat up. I ignored it. Someone sent out my kik, telling people I need to die and I need to know it. That I’m a worthless skank, a whore, etc. They’d say that I had to pay people for a good time, that I like to suck dicks for a living because I’m a big stupid whore. This all got to me one night, and I attempted suicide. I’m now here. Still being bullied. Still hating myself. Hating my life. I wish to die still, as I have no friends. No purpose. No meaning. Nothing. Why live anymore? It’s shit. It never ends, the pain. I just… I can’t do this anymore. I’m still here today, wishing I was just.. gone. Forever. Anwyays, this is my story. My life.. This is basically who I am. A severely depressed suicidal girl, who has many problems from starving herself to having panic attacks to cutting my own skin to attempting to take my own life. So, this is it. It’s not the end yet, it has began though, and this is just my own war. My own battles.
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