Another long one.
Seems like a good time to continue on with my confession. I ended the last post after I was caught. I injured myself for four years before my mom saw….. but then again you see what you want to see. My sister an I were always held to a higher standard than most kids. If we got a B on anything we were grounded. A’s were all my mom cared about. Nothing else. She got on to us for every little thing, making it a contest between the two of us. That is the main reason my sister and I started fighting. After being caught I spent even more time with my dad, sports yard work, whatever he did I did with him. My sister got stuck with my mother…. she began to change. She started acting just like her…. like a little carbon copy. I was shocked by the transformation. She ended up winning the competition between us…. if you call that winning. She was spoiled by my mother…. me? no…. nothing of the sort, I was never good enough for her…. I wasn’t even suppose to be alive. I was suppose to die, twice… but for some reason I was alive and kicking. I was born premature without fully developed lungs, they didn’t think I would make it…. but I did. Damn. Another problem with my birth….. The doctor said I was a boy.. My dad was so happy, a son. He wasn’t so lucky. My mom told me he cried when he found out I was a girl. Tears of Joy? I have spent all eighteen years of my life trying to be the son he wanted. At this point I had been talking for 15 minutes to the class I looked over and the teacher said he appreciated my sharing that. I wanted to go to my desk, but again I was asked to keep going. I shared somethings I overlooked previously, like the conflict of my sexuality. To this day my mom and dad have no idea that I am bisexual. My sister knows and treats me completely different because of it. My dad is a homophobic man, my mom is a racist woman. At my sixteenth birthday party she threw everyone that I invited out…. because they were black. I was so embarrassed. I have never understood why people are just so judgmental. Anyway, picking up where I left off. I was now a senior, marching band was my life, I practiced hours and hours to become the best I could. I was finally made section leader! I was so happy… it was short lived. Everyone complained that I wasn’t a good leader, that i wasn’t stable enough for it….. I even had a solo in the show! I wasn’t going to let them take what I worked so hard for away…. I fought and fought to set a good example…… but its hard to keep your head up when people say they would rather quit band then follow under me…. 5 people quit because I was named section leader, because I got the solo. Because of this I was assigned a co leader…. and I just wanted to kill her. She though she was better than everyone, she constantly practiced my solo in front of me…. saying when the director realizes you’re crazy he will give it to me. One day on the way to a band competition, my school bus was in a head on collision with another car. The driver of the car was killed instantly, decapitated on impact. I was a chaperon on the bus…. I was injured. After the daze wore off I looked around smoke filled my lungs and stung my eyes everyone was screaming and I looked down to see my sister laying in the floor. She had been throw from the back seat of the bus to the front. She was moving around so I knew she was ok. We got up and began trying to get out of the emergency exits….they were all faulty… not a single one opened…. the people outside had to break one open so we could escape…. seeing people beating and pounding on the windows….. will stay with me forever. The bus driver was critically injured but she lived. She saved our lives by taking the blow head on instead of swerving… if she had done that we all would have died…. and the bus behind us would have wrecked as well… ending up in a ditch. The news reports started pouring in, of course they had it wrong, they said we had all died in the accident. That was the first time I ever felt like my mom cared. She called and asked if we were okay she was panicking and it actually sounded like worry in her voice. I told her we were fine bruised and sore but alive….. Since then I have had a reoccurring dream of dying in the accident, sometimes I wish I had. Since then I have been hesitant to drive…. I’m not even sure why. “Is that why you don’t have a car?” I looked up at my classmate who had asked. “That is one reason yes, the other reason is that I never had a car to begin with.” My sister got a car when she was 15. Me? I’m 18 and still don’t have one. I figured that it was a favoritism thing. Finally, it was graduation time! I graduated high school with a 3.8 GPA and with honors. I was excited to be out of there thinking college would be better… not quite. On fathers day…. I was arrested for shoplifting. I was the scapegoat… my “friends” blamed me. I was held in juvenile for 8 hours until they told my mom…. in all honesty I would have rather stayed there then have to be alone with my mother. I was released into my mothers custody…. I tried explaining but it was no use. I got fined and got 10 hours of community service. Not so bad. Since I was a juvenile it was hidden away so no one could find it. I thought maybe if tried to forget about it I would be able to sleep…. My first semester we had a Mandatory Ethics class…… everyday I had it I would leave depressed and full of such guilt and self loathing. I wasn’t fit to be what I wanted to be anymore…. How would people trust me after this? I passed the class, and gained new pretty scars on each of my thighs. Other stuff happened that semester…. this is when I tried to kill myself again…. October 28, 2012…..