This is ME

It all started in 8th grade, I started cutting. But to be honest I only cut because I wanted the attention. Until soon enough like crack it was a addiction. And I was not about to give that addiction up. I loved that addiction I loved seeing the blood whip down my arm. The scratches started of at almost know blood until they soon got worse and blood would drip down my arm taking hours to stop.
I knew something was wrong because I never felt so sad and hopeless until the addiction started in. I started thinking life was whatever. . I didn’t  listen to what people  would say about me. The reason for this is because I knew right when I get home I was going to take care of the problem by cutting or self harming my self in many ways.
Soon enough like a bucket full of water I started over flowing. Not only in pain, but in blood. The pain was so unreal that I would lay on my floor unable to get up. Crying because my friend might not have called me right back or because those mean names. Almost every single thing got to me then. An as I keep getting closer to dumber things I would let get to me I started thinking about suicide. I was really scared to do it. I started taking pills more each days. But my body didn’t do what I wanted it to do. Which was die. So I soon wrote out a plan on how I wanted to do it.i didnt want to overdose I wanted the painful death. Though I wrote this down in my note book. Unthinking my mother would go through my stuff but she saw it and toke me to a counselor right away. I tried telling the counselor it was a joke and lying trying to say I got attacked by a cat because of all the marks that soon didn’t just cover my arms but some of my hips two and my legs. But my mom told me that I had one last chance to tell the truth or she would give her evidence. And of course I did not know about the fact that she found my note book… so I keep lying my butt off just to save it. And then my mom brought the note book in. and the consular read it and looked at me in shock. Thinking how could a teenager think of such a hurtful thing she told me. Those words for some reason never leaving my mind. And as soon as she said that she told my mom about this place called forest view hospital. (http://www.forestviewhospital.com/about-us_contact-us.shtml). I flipped out, not understand what I did wrong to be sent to some place for insane people. I started cursing and swearing at my mom. Telling her how much of a this or that she was. And soon enough we got home, and I tried to calm down; an explain why I didn’t need to go there. About how I was doing so much better, so much better I told her I didn’t even think suicide. Complete lie though and I guess she read right through it because the next day after school. She toke me to the hosptil. I was crying and balling my eyes out. I soon settled down and said ill lie my way out of this mess. They don’t know me and I bet they don’t know when im lying either.
So I went in there to be tested to see if I was going to have to stay. And they read right through every single lie, every single fake smile. They told me I was staying. I started crying again and soon my mom had to come in and say good bye and the last thing I could say was I HATE you. Though she is a great mom and she understood why I was so upset. She lied to get me right were she wanted.
My mom left and I soon was there with a bunch of people teenagers my age or some younger and older. Boys and girls. But I came in that place with a cold heart and determined to leave the next day. But soon enough I started talking to the kids. They weren’t that different from me. Though some stories were worse and some weren’t as bad as mine. I knew that even though as bad as I didn’t want to be there these people who worked there were going to help me. I ended up meeting people who were found dead in the hospital but by some miracle they made it. An some girls got raped or abused. And the boys the same things abused depression. The list could go on and on. And its not my place to tell there story. But it lasted for about 7 whole days. I was in a place were the outside world couldn’t find me. It couldn’t hurt or destroy me in any possible way. I was safe.. I might be making this place sound like a joy ride well it wasn’t. It wasn’t all fun and games. It was serious, you came there to fix you and only you. Not to fix any one else. I got out yesterday December 21/2011.. Coming back to the outside world wasn’t easy. You had to deal with the people asking you were you went and why do you seem different. But even though a week ago I wanted to kill my self and hurt others etc.  Even though i was out of that place i still had struggles going in there i was blumic, not only that but pills dont take away the hurt and the addiction. I tryed to pretend all the time that i was okay when i got out but deep inside i know i wasnt. I still was selfharming, still throwing up and hoping to die. I am finshing this story today firday april 27,2012 letting you all know i am a self harming, yes i have gotten better. But its hard to break a addiction. Yes i am blumic, but i soon will be that no more. I am today ready to share my story ready to tell people hope is out ther. HELP IS OUT THERE.  AND I WILL STOP THE HURT!!!!