Hello

This is going to sound corny and lame. I’ve tried to kill myself when I was 20 and when I was 22. I haven’t cut myself since for the last I want to say 3-4 years now? I have some larger scars higher up on my arms, and then smaller ones that really show if I some how let myself get tan all over my arms. It is kind of interesting… like you won’t see them until I point them out. So long I wear a shirt, no one sees the big scars, but at the same time I’m always some how reminded of my scars (the harder to see ones). Anyways, enough rambling.

But all my life, I’ve felt like I’ve been floating in this well. I’m looking up and I see the light, and each time I start grabbing stones that wall of well. I climb and climb, working on things like ” staying positive, trying to let go, and all that stuff we tell ourselves ” but then I slip. Something horrible happens, and I go crashing into the water.

So I try again, I start following the steps, and then come crashing back into the water, only deeper this time. You get the idea, the stones keep slipping out, and I keep falling deeper and deeper into the water.

A very bleak picture.

The worst part, if you look at me I’ve lived a very comfortable and privileged life, and somehow people go “Oh well look at the poor kids down in Africa” or some other horrible statement like that. But then they’ll tell me that money isn’t everything in the same sentence.

I’m going to apologize, but this is going to be everywhere since I’m just a little tired and just not feeling right … or else I’d be elsewhere.

I’ve tried twice to kill myself now, both times were with sleeping pills. As it turns out, sleeping pills themselves DO NOT kill you, but rather if you take enough you can cause damage to your liver, and thus being a suicidee you’re not able to get an organ donor. Thus, tah-dah killing yourself (in a slow and painful way).

Well my liver processed everything, and I managed to stay alive. Both times the world seemed brighter, and both times I was like “FUCK YEAH I’m going to move on, change a little bit here and there” But I just end up in the same well kind of analogy.

Anyways, all my life I’ve been picked on. From preschool, allll the way through highschool. Naturally, this has caused me to be very very very shy around people I haven’t met. I kind of have to scope them out first, and see how they act before I’ll say hello. This is every worse for women, I was that icky kid that if he had a crush on you, you went “ewwwwwww” while pointing and laughing. I can’t tell you how many times; when I’m with friends a girl would shake everyone’s hand and just ignore me. I’ve been scoffed at, laughed at, and told I was a freak by women.

For guys it was a little easier, but then again its hard to build confidence when the linebacker thinks it is funny to slam you into the locker everyday. As immature as it was, I had enough and grabbed him by the collar and told him “If you ever touch me again, I’ll kill you”. This of course brought me into the office. Whew, maybe I’d get some help right? Nope. I was told “maybe you should take a different route to class”. That was the help I’d get.

It goes on, I’ll post all of them later I suppose, but yeah this shit. It haunts me. I’ve even been diagnosed with a minor form of PTSD from how much I was picked on, and singled out.

What people tell me is that on the bright side it made me who I am. For all you know i’m just some whiney kid, and I’m making this all up for attention, so I might as well just keep going. But.. I’m just a loyal person, I didn’t have many friends, and I’d go to that extra mile to help them out. I’d stand up for them, and I’d fight the bullies for them, I just never got that in return. If you needed something at 3am in the morning, I’d be there to help out. People always came to me for help, and I thought showing kindness would help. But in the end I was just a stepping stool for them to feel better, so then they could just toss me aside.

I even helped out some of the “popular” girls, when they got depressed and needed someone to talk to. I was there; to tell them one of them she was pretty. I didn’t always act concerned of her eating disorder, as if that was the only reason why I was her friend. Instead I’d just hang out, be nice, let her know she was fine the way she was, and didn’t have to listen to her boyfriend and what not. Well she got better, moved on, and never looked backed since.

I guess, if you want to know more I’ll post more later, I didn’t realize how much I have typed. I’m almost expecting one of the tl:dr kind of deals.

Well… this might helped me a little, but at the same time it just drummed up a lot of things I had forgotten, and man that sucks.