My Body Is A Cage

October 9th, 2011by xXcanthelpmyselfXx

I am sixteen years old. For three years I’ve been rail-roaded with problems. Depression. Self-harm. Bullying. Suicidal thoughts. Everyone tells me “It gets better.” but when I’m lying alone in bed, afraid of everything, I don’t see much hope. Since second grade, I’ve been picked on by everyone from my “best friend” to someone I just met to people I don’t even know. I’ve tried going to school counselors and in all my visits, only once was it not my fault. I got to eighth grade, and I was called a(n) dyke, lesbian, homo, freak, whore, *****, slut, nerd, emo, fag, and many other names. For the record, I did not out myself or was outed as being gay, nor have I even confronted my sexuality at this point. They called me that because I stood up for a kid they also called gay.

In junior high (6 to 8th grade), my first boyfriend told everyone I was a whore. He still tells people that. I had nowhere to sit at lunch, no one to talk to. My friend from second grade wouldn’t be seen with me. I didn’t blame her. (No exaggeration mind you.) I had food thrown at me, I had girls plotting to get me kicked out of the locker room because they didn’t think the “dyke” should be allowed in. That was when I started cutting… I tried, believe me, I tried to get help. I told teachers, student counselors, the psychologist, the principal. No one cared. “It’s a part of growing up. If you can’t handle this, you’re going to have a tough time in life.” I dreaded every day that I had to come to school. I couldn’t eat, sleep, or even pay attention in school anymore. My grades plummeted, and it only made me feel worse.

I graduated from Elementary school, and I thought I had a fresh start with high school. Little did I know that my first friend would be the person to betray and violate me in ways I don’t even want to share online. It all started again. I was ugly, fat, a loser, etc. The only bright side was I made some new and real friends. My freshman year, a boy two years ahead of me, shot himself. My friends surrounded me with love and support, now horrified at the thought of me doing the same. The thoughts were still there. I still couldn’t sleep. I still couldn’t eat. I didn’t understand what I had to look forward to.

As my first year of high school neared it’s close, I had survived three suicide attempts, none of which anyone knew about. I got pushed to the edge that I went to school with the plan to end my life. I told my friends I loved them, before the time came, I told each one, “Just remember: I love you.” None of them understood, none took too big of a notice to it, because I seemed better. I saved the best for last. I knew his would take longer. He deserved an explanation. He was always there to protect me. So, I knew that he had to know that it wasn’t his fault. I walked up to him, and I remember he saw me and asked, “Good day today, huh?” I nodded and said, “Yeah..good day.” I opened my arms for a hug, my whole cliche goodbye planned out in my head. But, I choked on the words. I could feel the tears rising as I hugged him. His friend had grabbed his arm, but when he looked back at me, his smile faded instantly. When he asked me what was wrong, all I could say was “It’s not your fault.” and “I love you.”

This phrase has stuck with me forever and anytime I feel low, I remember that people love me, because of what his reaction was. He hugged me tightly and said, “I’m here to protect you. I always will be.” That night, I went home, and I threw away my plans to kill myself. He told me he loved me  too, and that I’m his best friend in the whole world. I knew I had a meaning to someone, and I couldn’t just disappear. I know it hasn’t been long, but I feel like I’m a survivor, because of my best friend. He did so much more for me than he could ever understand. I still have struggles with depression, and anxiety, but I am very proud to say that for 9 months, I haven’t self-harmed in any way. I stopped that day. It sounds made up, and you don’t have to believe it. But that’s why I’m still breathing today, and I spend every day thanking him for saving my life.
I know it can be painful, and I know that it can feel like the only thing to do is find a way out. And I don’t know every situation, or every set of circumstances, but I do know that there’s always someone who would be completely broken if something happened to you. Every day of their lives they would remember their best friend, son, daughter, sister, brother, mom, or dad. If you can’t live for yourself, do it for someone who means the world to you, and you to them. Don’t end your life when you have so much left to live for. There’s always millions of experiences out there, and you can’t live them from six feet under.

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