My Story.

Read on my fellow crazies. Let’s see, where to start? I guess the beginning. When I was five, my parents got divorced. Not a big deal right? Tons of parents get divorced and a lot of kids get to visit every other weekend or something. Well my dad packed me, my two sisters, and little brother up and brought us all the  way from Ohio to New Hampshire. Leaving my mom behind. I got to see her in the summers and Christmas break for a week or so. My second-to-oldest sister had an over-eating disorder and was the first to move out of that madhouse to my mom. She made my life living hell and told me it was my fault she was moving and that no one can ever live or be happy with me around. I was probably like eight. My oldest sister threatened to kill us all in our sleep by beating us with bricks. I was the middle child and honestly felt completely unloved. Still do a lot of the time, but things with the family are different at least. When i was 14 i was next in line to hightale it out of there to my mom’s. Except it was complicated. I met someone and we were together for about a year when i finally made the decision that was supposed to be for my mental health. I was completely and totally in love. Still am as a matter of fact. Most people would say that 13 is wayy too young to fall in love but this is the real deal and ‘m sure of it. We’ve been together for three years now. That’s right. Two whole years of a long distance relationship with 7 hundred miles in between. We get to see eachother ever 4-6 months or so but it’s simply and purely torture. I could not name one person on the face of the planet that i care about more. My heart physically hurts when i think about him. He has the same problems i have with depression but he makes me feel like they’re my fault. I dont think he does it on purpose. But when you boyfriend/ best friend carves your initial into his chest over his heart with a knife, what else are you supposed to think? It’s my fault and I know it. either way the majority of the emotional “terrorism”, the constant threat of him possibly commiting suicide (because of me) is on my mind every day. Every single day i look in the mirror and i know it’s my fault that the man i love feels the way he does. I will never forgive myself. He cut himself over and over because of me. So i did the same. I cut myself. Just to make it hurt. Just to see the marks. When the scars started to fade I was actually disappointed. My mom found out and threatened to put me in a mental institution soo no more cutting myself where it’s easily seen. I still think about hurting myself all the time, it’s a constant thought in the corner of my mind. I look at my closet, the belts and scarves in there and it looks pretty appealing sometimes. All the emotions, all the stupid feelings that torture me and thoughts that never go away, they could be gone….Forever….But then again… So would everything else.