Thought I would share my story – Noone else will hear it.

I thought I’d share my story with those people online and perhaps find someone to relate to. As of now, I’m 17. I’m planning on ending life within the next 3weeks (I’m getting together some money to leave my parents – untill then I need to hold it out).

My story begins when I was younger of course. I was always a shy child, and I’ve always had a fear of too many people in one area – I’ve got an anxiety disorder. My home life was… bareable, at best. My father was an asshole to say the least. I’d like to note that when he was a child – his parents abused him, sexually, physically, mentally. He’s fucked in the head ultimately. The point I’m making is please do not judge him – as much as I make him feel sick, I love him.

My father always had problems around me. I repulsed him. I literally, made him feel sick. I can remember his face clearly. So full of anger. I guess he saw his childhood in me. My two sisters, one older, one younger, was never subject to his crap. He got a kick out of playing with them and pushing me away. He was quite vicious at times, he would call me just about every name under the sun you could imagine. Keep me indoors for being literally 2minutes late from his unreasonable deadline when to come home.

He enjoyed dragging me around the house by a wrist – He knew if he hurt me my family would be on his back.

The reason for this was his mother actually told the police my father was sexually abusing my sister. I’d like to point out that this was false. His mother (irony being, she and my dads many step fathers did this to him) was vicious. She, like he hated me, hates him. Notice the chain? I’ll break it. My life ends it.

Anyway – Dispite his shit I was actually an out going child, I remember around 6-10, I’d be the first one out of the door washed dressed and sitting on my friends walls ready for them to play – They were, more often then not, still sleeping. I loved being outside away from home. (This will be relevant for later)

With my dads crap in mind, the next bit is weird for me. I had several normal friends, and several friends that were way older then me. Long story short, I was forced to do an act with 2 of them. I was around 6-7 – I really can’t remember much. I’ve always felt guilt about it. Thought I’d mention this because I’ve told noone in my life.

Okay so skipping countless scenerio’s with my father and such, I gained problems with adults in school. My teacher was young and impatient, He must of been around 22? At any rate, He made me fear adults – those who I see are above me. I wasn’t a smart child – Infact I’m dyslexic – you’ll notice from my spelling no doubt. Long story short he would scream in my face infront of the class for not understanding simple sums.

Skipping a lot of things out, At 10 I was forced to move away from everything I knew. This is when things truly started going downhill. I had no friends in my new school. I was scared shitless of everything and everyone. I remember my heart pounding if anyone looked at me. Anxiety was and is the bane of my fucking life. I went from being out all day everyday, to staying in my home ALL day and night. (Which ultimately meant more time around my father).

Skipping a year forward, year 7. Secondary school. Long story, once again short, my anxiety got worst, I hated, and still do dispise the way I look. I got paranoid. I could not talk to teachers at all. It made me feel sick with anxiety – it truly crippled me.

Around this time I was sad, I was away from everything I knew, I didn’t like being home – it wasn’t my home. I merely existed there. I began to be picked on a lot because I was quiet. I would take everything people said and did to me and just get on with it.

I began to hate life, I really did. But weirdly I thought: this is what everyone feels, I am like this but so is everyone else. Everyone feels this bad? Don’t they?

I began to talk to myself in my head to keep myself company, to this day I still argue with myself and debate everything. I feel as if apart of me is some evil peice of scum, It makes me utterly sick.

Anyway, my barrier was my mind. I became a drone. I woke up hating life, going to school, comming home to my dads shit, going to school, dad,school,dad. I was feeling so alone. I’d give my right arm to have someone I felt loved me. I was hurting so much. The anxiety and sadness I felt. A big cloud above my head and a hammer and nail being striked onto my chest if someone glanced or said my name.

Skipping through a lot of stuff again – I kept on like this for afew years. Infact My barrier and drone like state kept me going untill year 11. Untill then I just cried myself to sleep.

One particular day in school, In PE I was feeling broken. I just turned 15 I think. My teacher said my name, I was day dreaming – I hated PE. Everyone looked at me, I looked at his face, disapointment. I can’t tell you how badly I shattered that day. I just began to fall to peices infront of everyone. I cried and told my teacher later I hadn’t been out of the house apart from school and family visits for around 5 years. He put me in touch with a lady I hold dearly in my heart – Lisa. She kept me going, She kept me safe. She was like my mother only I felt loved.

At any rate, I hated myself. I felt if everyone else hated me so, perhaps I am right to do the same? I looked in the mirror and hated what I saw. The next part I find hard to tell. I began cutting myself with a stanly knife blade that I found in the shed. It felt so right – watching blood run down my left arm was the highlight of my night. The fact that I hurt the thing everyone seemed to hate felt so right, so normal.

Skipping ahead again, with my barrier and drone like mind broken I finally began thinking for myself. I’ve always hated life but never before had I believed that it was mine. Suicidal thoughs began popping up. They felt amazing. It was like hope infront of me, the thought of someone or something ending me was amazing.

I would often imagine being stabbed saving someone else and dieing infront of them. I imagined myself pushing someone else out of the way of a car and being smashed and killed. Even now I wanted to leave a legacy. I hated my life but I value love above everything. I can’t stand watching others being sad, I know how it feels to some extent. I say some extent because every person is different, I don’t truly believe that one human can understand another 100%. We’re all too different. Too many variables that define who we are – what we are, how we interact in a situation. Pain can be described. Pain in the mind isn’t as easy to describe. It… just hurts. Badly. The feeling of being alone, of being hated, of hating yourself. Of being a bad person. Not being who others expected you to be.

I feel as if I am several people in one. One sam loves everyone. One sam hates and wants to watch things burn. One sam wants to see myself hurt and die. I’m split in my head argueing forever.

Again, I’m skipping out details of what happened inbetween, they do not need to be mentioned. When I was 15, afew months down the line, I overdosed twice heavily. Long story short, I ended up in an adolesent mental hospital. Being honest it was a terrible experience. People trying to harm themselfs daily, kill themselfs even in the clinic. I wanted to hurt myself, but the thought of others going through it truly hurt me. It made me sick. I distinctly remember a girl telling me she had been raped – I needed to get it off my chest how I felt about it. I told a girl I trusted very well in the clinic and brokedown – that night I took a tin can lid and damaged myself heavily. All i remember is crying and having shitloads of tissue around me in a pool of blood. It was terrifiing being honest.

Anyhow, I was in the clinic for a total of 4-months. I left when I was 16. Inbetween now and then events have happened, e.g. fist fights with my father. The only time I stood up to him. I cried for hours after. I hurt another person.

 A year later two nurses have kept on with me to help me out with my anxietys. Didn’t really help. They had to leave me now – they’ve been in my life for two years – I guess they couldn’t spend anymore money on me with the service.

I gave life a chance and started college. Skipping ahead, I can’t go. I cried in college in the toilets. I’d burst out crying in class. I truly cannot handle other people. I am below everyone. I feel as if everyone is better then me. I feel right but scared in this place.

I’m losing the will to carry on writing this now. I guess before I go I wanted anyone to hear my story. I wish I could leave a legacy. I want my death to bring some form of happiness to good people. I wish I could write something truly beautiful that would touch the hearts of people on this site that are hurting. If only I knew how to help everyone here, I would.  If anyone reads this, please know I realise your pain is undescribeable, it’s unbareable. I want to scream, shout, cry.

As of now I’m doing college work at home – I’ve completely stopped doing anything and am prepareing for the next few weeks to set everything up.

I’m sick of myself. I’m sick of my father. I’m sick of fighting myself. I’m sick of being scared of others. I’m sick of reliving every mistake I’ve ever made. I’m sick of being aburdon on the one person I love above all else – my mum. I’m sick of this fucking anxiety. I’m sick of these 4 walls. I’m sick of life. It won’t improve. I do not have any hope nor future to look forward too. I will be alone, I will be sad.

It’ll be over soon. I’m sorry I didn’t go into too much detail, it hurts remembering it, let a low writing and reading it.