How It All Began

  July 29th, 2009 by CJ

My thoughts of suicide started when I was 13 years old.

 I made a friend through a connection with another friend, and she was awesome (at first). I found out a month into our friendship that she did drugs. I encouraged her to stop, but since she was 5 years older than me she was too self- absorbed to listen. So, one night she slept over my house, and curiosity got the best of me, and I tried the drugs. It was… wonderful, to say the least. So more ‘sleepovers’ were planned afterwards. If I can recall correctly, it was about the third time she slept over that I noticed she didn’t take any drugs while I was having  a plentiful amount. She was even helping me take more, more than I usually took. I thought nothing of it.

The next morning, I woke up and I was completely naked. I also had bruises and abrasions all over my body. I was horrified, knowing that I went to sleep with my clothes on. I also had horrible repercussions. I got so sick from the amount of drugs I took I started throwing up blood. Her reply to all of this?  “Well, you can’t go to the hospital, because they’ll trace the drugs in your system”. Helpful fucking advice.

This routine of molestation and drug abuse continued for over 9 months. During that time she took an interest in my brother. They became a couple (against my parents orders) and my brother would yell at me and break things when I protested her coming over. He even hit  me once. I became so full of anxiety and depressed I actually asked my parents to put me in a mental institution. They laughed. I continued seeing her against my will, and thus began my self hatred. I could have not taken the drugs and let her do those things to me, but I was an addict by now and didn’t care about the reprecussions until afterwards.

One day, when I finally had enough, I told her I didn’t want to be friends anymore. She threatened to commit suicide. My brother yelled and hit me. My brother knew what she did to me, because the girl couldn’t keep her mouth shut about anything, and because he didn’t care. When I was finally able to break off the relationship, I was 14, drug addicted, and suffering from severe depression.

I’m 15 now, 4 months since I last saw her. My brother still talks to her frequently, and I think they’re still together. I hate myself for letting me be the victim of this whole situation. I have so much repressed hate some days I feel like stabbing my chest to release the ache. Frankly, I don’t blame anyone except for myself.



P.S. Thank you for your comment Jon

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