I thought it was over.

Have you ever had a moment where you’re just thinking, not about anything in particular.. and those innocent thoughts take a nasty turn? Next thing you know you’re talking yourself out of hurting yourself. Moments of insanity I like to call them. When something in your head shifts ever so slightly and everything you’ve stuffed and hidden inside for twenty years tries to get out? It over loads the brain and you just want to make it stop. You’d do anything for the memories and the pain to leave.

I’ve never been able to fully tell anyone the whole story. Why not a bunch of random people, that I do not know.

Growing up, I got sick a lot. High fevers would just pop up and the doctor could never figure out why. I got sick probably at least once every week, until I was eight years old. Then I never really got more then a cold. I saw my dad once, in third grade. Never really understanding what I did, what was wrong with me, why he didn’t love me like he loved his three daughters that were born after he left my mother. I spent sixteen years taking the blame for everything.. I really truly believed it was my fault. The house was always… I don’t know what word to use… nasty. I guess that sums it up. My mom never cleaned.. I was never taught to clean.. From the day I was taken home from the hospital until I moved out at eighteen, trash everywhere. Rotting food. Random junk.. It seemed to get better when we moved and my mom got a boyfriend.. He lived with us for about a year right after we moved when I was eight. And then he left. And it went down hill. Friends weren’t allowed in the house.. I didn’t even want people knowing where I lived because I was so ashamed of where I lived. She always shoved it off on me. It was my fault. I was worthless, and I’d never amount to anything. I was going to be a sponge and live off other people my entire life. Our heater stopped working when I was about ten. The drier stopped working shortly before I dropped out of highschool my freshman year. We had to hang dry our clothes… people would always tell me I smelled weird. Like mold and mildrew, like filth. Then the toilet stopped working. It was alright for awhile, until it got full. Then I didn’t know what to do.. so I started going in the tub. Looking back, I almost throw up just from thinking about how I was forced to live. When something would break, she didn’t fix it. My grandmother had to buy me food. My whole life I was pretty much fed fast food and nothing else.

When I was thirteen my half sister was born. My mom and her were always gone. She was a perfect little angel, and mommy loved her. Sometimes I thought I was just jealous because I had my mom all to myself for so long and now I had to share. People who didn’t even know my mom could see it. She treated my sister (Michelle) like a perfect angel, and I was a piece of shit. I started getting really depressed, one day mom and i had a fight. She left with Michelle, and I didn’t even want keep wasting the air i used to live. I happened to stumble a crossed a razor blade. I’d heard of people cutting, and it actually sounded like.. I don’t know.. at that point I would have drank bleach if you told me it could make the pain go away. I started cutting. Once a week. Twice a week. Everyday. My arms, legs sides everything was red and sore. If that wasn’t bad enough, I started cleaning them with rubbing alcohol.. My excuse to myself? I don’t want them to get infected. The truth? It burned. To this day the smell of rubbing alcohol still taunts me. I used to just sit there and watch the blood spill out of my skin. And I’d cry. I started writing poetry. Really dark stuff. When I hit highschool, I was absent so often they actually removed my books from my locker. I dropped out freshman year. Tried to kill myself. I had two bottles of Tylenol and a bottle of NyQuil.. My plan? Take as many as I could handle and drink the NyQuil, go to sleep and never wake up. My friend called halfway through and made me come over. She didn’t know why but she just had a feeling I needed her and something bad was about to happen. She saved me. When I turned sixteen, My aunt took me to meet my dads brother, and i ended up meeting his whole family pretty much, and they arranged for him to come meet me. We went canoeing and pretty much, I sat there and he talked, he told me everything. How he was a scared boy when I was born. It wasn’t my fault, I wasnt even born when he left my mom. So many things changed that summer. I was broken free from the guilt. I stopped saying sorry over stuff that couldnt possibly be my fault. I stopped blaming everything on myself. I felt free. When I was eighteen my mom kicked me out. No job, No license, nothing. booted to the street. My grandma took me to get my GED, and I moved in with my dads mom, but my grandma (moms mom) drove the hour drive to come get me and the hour drive back to her house weekly, for my counselor appointments. I met my fiance’ a few months before I turned nineteen. He saved me literally from the bad situation I was in at that time, and kept saving me everyday after.

Until he started lying. Doing drugs behind my back. We originally smoked some pot together, but nothing more. As he introduced me to his friends I noticed this white power going around his group known as jdub.. or JWH-018. Basically the original stuff they put on spice. He told me he didn’t do it, and it was a nasty drug. We moved into his brothers house together. Shortly after we went on vacation, and I really fell in love with him. I saw how beautiful life could be without the drugs.. I changed right then and there. I didn’t want to ever do drugs again. I wanted to live my life with him. My dreams and goals all started to slowly form with him in my life.