My turn

I’ve been on here for a few days and I’ve posted some advice… Now it’s my turn, I think.

I’ve been struggling with these thoughts since the end of my sixth grade year. This was when separations between people occurred. I was pushed the outer most edge of the world. I was bullied, and to defend myself, to make myself look tough, I bullied back. I was by myself, I hardly had a friend. When I had chicken pox and was gone for almost a month… nobody noticed I was gone. Except the teacher… of course…

Seventh grade came around and I was at a new school. Immediately, everyone hated me. I could tell. In the hallways I was tripped, my things were stolen, I was called a freak, my homework would be ripped up as it was being passed in, and people pulled my hair all the time. I was going to puberty, so I was a little, maybe not little I was chunky, girl with zits all over her face. I didn’t have a single friend. Not even someone to say good morning to. My parents kept yelling at me to keep my grades up because this lead to high school, which lead to college. Therefore Middle School= College. Somehow. My first attempt was with a pair of scissors at home. I didn’t know what I was doing, but i knew that if you cut something in your arm deep enough, you would die. I could barely make a little scar on my wrist. I cried and I cried because I thought I was weak; that I wasn’t good enough for death. The next day, one person saw a little scab on my wrist and like wildfire, I was the emo girl of the school. The teachers told the principal who told the school therapist. I had a meeting with her, all she did was pity me. Well, she heard that everyday in math, in the morning, I would cry. It was because I didn’t understand the material and I was terrified that I would fail and my parents would just brutalize me. She said why don’t you tell them you’re afraid? I told them all the time I tried my best and I studied. I did. I studied every night. I did my homework; I just couldn’t grasp it as well as others. It was horrible. So, a few days go by. I’m called more names, I’m called crazy. I hate it. Eighth grade didn’t improve. I had to take classes in the high school because I was in the advanced section. I struggled there too. I had a hard time. I knew high schoolers were looking at me and judging me. I knew they were calling me names. A few did. A few tripped me. A few pulled on my backpack. A few threw paper at me. I hated it. High school was a little better.. but the parents got worse. So did my ‘mask’. I pretended to laugh and get along with people. But I had a habit of observing every bit of them. Taking note of everything they said, noting their tone, noting their behavior towards me and others. In the end, it came down that I was never. I broke everything down so that it was negative for me. I still do. But I argue with myself.

By sophomore year, I was convinced I would die by myself. I would be alone and no one would be my friend. I was just some tool or a mouthpiece for everyone. There was no purpose. Then I met the most wonderful man. He changed my life completely around. I couldn’t believe someone like him, someone so perfect, would ever even talk to me. Our relationship began online on some chat site. We loved anime, we ridiculed the same people, we loved the same bands, we talked about everything together. Then he asked me out. I thought immediately, oh… internet relationship… ok, I’ll play along. I’ll be your internet plaything. I was satisfied with being a friend, when he asked me out online, everything just dropped out in my mind. I was convinced that he was just using me for internet ass. Well… time went on… he really cared about me. Every mood swing I had, he was there to cheer me up. I could never be upset with him. I could never hate him. I loved him so much, and he even loved me. He saved my life. He saved my horrible, damned life. A few months into our relationship, he had to move to Japan with his dad. He thought he would be back in a few months and he would arrange for us to see each other. I was excited! But things happened… his dad fucked up… then my man got sick… and he got sicker… and sicker… It started with something simple, something small. Then all of a sudden… he had cancer. Cancer. He was stuck in Japan since then because his dad could only afford the treatment. He didn’t even tell until about two months after his diagnosis. My friend told me before he did. I had to confront him. He had disappeared for a month, I had no idea where he was. I was a wreck. I was biting myself furiously every night, hoping he would appear on our chat site and talk to me. The night I found him, the night I confronted him, he admitted that he was afraid. He was afraid that I’d leave him because he had cancer. I told him there was no way. I would love him just the same, if not more! Then he became depressed, every time he was depressed, I was depressed. I would cry randomly at school if I saw something that reminded me of him. anything would set me off.

People thought I was crazy. All I wanted was to talk to him. I wanted to see him and hold him. But what could I do?? He was over in Japan and I was in the US. I was useless. I was awkward with words and he was a poet. He expressed his love in more ways I could ever imagine. More things happened but… I just can’t think about them… they hurt too much…

His health continued to get worse. A little less than two months after my birthday… his brother messaged me to tell me that he had died. His last words were about how he wanted so much to hold me, but he could wait just a little longer. I felt like killing myself then and there. He had turned my life around and saved me. How could he have just died???? how could he have not taken me with him?? I wanted to be alone. But there were some people who were nosy assholes and decided the day after he died that they would take me out on the town. What the fuck was wrong with them!??? I’ve never put on more of a performance in my life! I wanted to kill myself every moment with them. I hated them. When I finally got home, I went to the computer, expecting to see a message from him… why did I do that? It made things even worse! I cried and cried! I bit myself out of rage, out of every emotion I had. My hands and my arms were a mess. I refused to go anywhere. My senior year suffered because of it. I refused to trust people. I just made small conversation, I hardly talked. I believe this was when my mask hardened and become stronger than anything. It was my shield that I hid behind. Inside I thought only about him, I thought of ways to die to meet him again. I thought of everything I did wrong, how I could’ve made him happier. It’s made things worse. The nights hurt me because that was when we talked the most, that was the time we shared and agreed that it was our time forever. He’s still waiting for me. Where ever he is. I keep thinking that, I don’t want to keep him waiting. But then I remember the words he said just a few days before he died, he made me promise to never hurt myself. to never kill myself. I wanted to so badly. I’ve slipped up a lot. I have. it was always on nights when I was only thinking of him and things kept getting worse. His death anniversary is about a month and half away. I don’t know what to do. That day is the day I promised to him that I would move on, that I would put aside our relationship that we had and find someone else. how can I do that? How??? i gave everything to him! I trusted him more than I trusted myself! i gave my heart to him, I poured all my thoughts out to him. I loved him more than anything in this world. Without him, i felt empty; incomplete. Now everyday is just another day… I drift through it. Whenever he pops up into my head, I push it away. I’m afraid of thinking of him. I’m afraid of crying again. I promised him I would never cry. I can’t even count how many times I’ve broken that promise.

I don’t know what I’m going to do on his death anniversary… I just don’t know. Right now I’m in college so I can get a degree to go into medical research to hopefully find a cure to cancer and any heart problem. But that day… I don’t know what I’ll do on that day. I’ve thought of many ways to kill myself that day… so many… but then his words come back…