Suicide is the only option

As a kid growing up, I didn’t grow up happy. The pain I go through everyday of my life does not equal to the average kid today or even less.  My biological father was my everything to me when I was young. He was the only person I look up to. We weren’t close, but he was the one in my life that gave me hope and happiness. Around the age of five, I was oblivious to see our family problems. I had no idea what was going on. My father told me in the midst of my sleep that he loved me, that he was leaving. Again, I thought he would come back knowing he would wake up the same time every morning heading out to work and coming back home. I had no clue what was going on. I was just a kid. I remember seeing burning pictures of our family while I would be on my Playstation. A way to avoid my fears because I was terrified. I remember the continuous yelling and screaming from day to night. Soon, I started to see my mother with different men from time to time. We were poor a family. Just me and my mother staying at her friend’s place and I was afraid to be alone. I was afraid to be alone because my mother would go out to a bar or a club every night while my five year old self would sit in a room in a house full of strangers, in a room with no television or a clock. We stayed at her friend’s place for several months. When my mother was engaged to her boyfriend, I was sent to my grandmother’s place to stay. I was in kindergarten and was lacking English skills which was difficult for me to make friends. Family problems were truly damaging my education and schooling. Everyday for two years, I wonder when I will be living with my mother again. When my mother got married to this man, my step father, she was also pregnant. I was really excited knowing that I will have a sibling. I will have someone to talk to, to take care of, and to not feel alone. Because of my mother being pregnant, we looked for a place to stay. We found a one room apartment near my grandparent’s place and decided to move in. I slept on the ground everyday from second grade until third grade. I didn’t mind. I was still that one kid who was afraid of ghosts and monsters. I lost many hours of sleep every night because I would be in the living room alone. I was afraid to sleep, afraid to keep my eyes shut. I had to leave the television on running so there could be some background noise which was less frightening for me. I would normally wake up early for school like every other kids do. My grandfather would drive to our place to pick me up and drop me off at school and I would be picked up after school by my grandfather.  After school, my grandparents would babysit me at their place. It would be like this everyday until I was in 4th grade when hell began. We moved into a different city about 40 minutes away from my grandparents. I have a sister. There were many different ethnic background and it was my third elementary school since my biological dad left. I still haven’t seen or talked to my father ever since he left. When I was registering for school, I was suppose to be in third grade, but because of my age, they asked if I wanted to skip third grade and move onto fourth grade. I was just a kid and I didn’t know what would be the best decision for me. My step-father told them to move me up a grade. School began and I was starting fourth grade with no knowledge of what a third grader should know. Because of this, I was even further behind in class. This new life was great at first, but that changed. I realize how much I am behind. The school counselor had to place me in a speech class because of this reason. I was called “gay” for not knowing my stuff. I was bullied and hurt. I was a broken kid. My parents partied everyday in our new apartment continuously. I locked myself in my room listening to their party music blasting loudly for nearly every single day. Sometimes, I would wake up and they would still be partying. I would come home from school and the same thing would still be going on. They had no clue how horrible I was doing at school and didn’t care for how I do. Because of this reason, it made me feel bad about myself and I suddenly just lost motivation. I stopped doing my homework and I began to feel more depress. I started thinking more about life and my wonderful family that doesn’t exist. I would always ask myself this one specific question, “What would life be like for me right now if I stayed with my biological father?”. Because of parties involving alcohol, my parents began to fight and it became a daily thing for them. When they fight, I would cuddle up in a room. I would cry alone with no one there for me. I was afraid of going home to see them fight and I was afraid to go to school because I would be verbally abused due to my lack of education. I started learning how to do bigger chores because I wanted to help out my family. I was a neat freak. Most kids would go out to play and have fun around my age, but instead, I learn how to vacuum, do my family’s laundries, wash the dishes, and folding my family’s clothes. When I see kids with their parents at school, I notice how much more supportive their parents are to them. I was jealous because they have the family that I wanted. To have someone supporting you, helping you achieve, and checking up on your education would be the best I could ask for. I accepted the fact that no one could have what they want. After several years of living in that apartment, we moved into a three story house. I thought our family would change after moving here, but the parties migrated to this house as well. I was still attending the same school and was in 6th grade. I was still the kid that is behind in class, but now known as the troubled kid. I had given up on everything and could care less about school. I was still verbally abused and was sent to the principal’s office for half of the year. I was sent there for not doing my daily homework. I missed almost every single recess and had detention everyday. I fought and argued with my mother more often and it soon to become a daily thing for us. It went from verbally abuse to physically abuse. As elementary school was near ending, I was told that I won’t be moving forward. I was told to repeat 6th grade, but in a different school this time. I faced depression everyday of my life and when I sat in the principal’s office, I could hear the kids taking their graduation picture. I was the odd one out, alone. On our last day at that school, I grabbed my stuff from class. Packing up, ready to leave. Students already knew I was the dumb gay kid that won’t be moving on. The kid who won’t be successful in life. The kid with no support in his family. I was depress wanting to burst some tears walking along the hall. I was then pushed to the ground and kids were laughing at me. Drew on my face with a marker. I didn’t want to cry in front of people walking past by. I come home that day and was verbally abused for not passing 6th grade. Violent terms such as “I rather raise a dog than you”, “Motherf*cker”, and it gets worse. I question my life and ask myself why I don’t have the family I deserve. Why am I not like other kids? Why am I the outcast? I became mentally unstable and depression hits even harder than before. As 6th grade started again for me, my sister was in school as well. My parents cared a lot for my sister and I’ve never really had what she had. I wasn’t picky about things and I didn’t mind. As long as my half sister is happy, then I’m happy. 2nd year of 6th grade wasn’t so bad and I was glad that I made through it. During my year here, there was an economic crash which caused us to move from place to place. I was still attending the same school and it had very little impact on my education. I wasn’t the top student, but I was close to the last and barely made it into 7th grade. My mother and I still fought and I began feeling suicidal. I hurt myself and had several attempts. I was bullied when I entered 7th grade. I was the only Asian student there and there were many Hispanics. I was called “Chino” and other hurtful terms. I was being harass every day. I had to take the bus to school and I was afraid of seeing these students on the bus with me. I was afraid of everything in my life. My parents, my school, and my education. I was afraid and terrified where I would end up. I always felt like suicide is the only choice, the only way out. The only way to make things better and to cause less problems for my family. My parents didn’t know I have suicide thoughts. They didn’t know. I was still verbally abused by my mother when I don’t do what she wants. They knew what I was capable of doing when it comes to house chores, so I had to constantly wash the dishes and clean the house more. I was distracted and was never able to fully complete my homework. I was still giving up and didn’t care anymore about life. My carelessness caused my mother and I to fight even more. From here on, my whole entire family sees me as the bad kid and the one causing worse for my family. I moved to three different middle schools from 7th til 8th grade. When I graduated middle school, I was really happy. It was not suppose to be that big of an accomplishment feeling, but it did. I was happy and expected to see my parents going to my graduation. No one was there. My family wasn’t there. I see other kids family, but not mine. Why? As graduation was ending, I had to walk home and continued everyday like an average normal day. During that time, I had another sister which equals to two by now. We also have a babysitter who comes over everyday to watch her. High school was when everything changed for me. My freshman year was the year I didn’t care much because my life sucks. I didn’t even care for it after all of those suicide attempts, after all of the abuse, after all of the pain. Why should I even care? I messed up freshman year terribly and had to repeat my classes. I moved on to sophomore year and I decided to give myself a fresh start. When sophomore year begun, I was moving to a different school and a different house. Moving to many schools really made it difficult for me to make friends, a close friend. I wanted to be someone else my sophomore year. When school started, I signed up for many different clubs and I was also in choir. I started to be the kid I never expected to be. Popular. I became popular with all of the clubs I am in, with the choir concerts and school activities I attend, and with how many events I attended. I was also in a sport. That made me feel a thousand times better because I am usually a lonely person. I auditioned for a musical and got in. I rehearsed hours and hours every single day and up until the premier of the musical. I wanted my parents to attend. I wanted to show them how hard I work for this musical piece. Instead, they went clubbing and didn’t care about it. Didn’t even hear one word of compliment about how much I’ve worked. I also learn how to avoid suicide and became more of an optimistic person throughout high school. I told myself, “Why should I suicide when I could be out there helping people preventing them”?. I started helping my community by doing community services and helping special ed kids. I got awards for doing them and it made me feel much better. I was still slacking off in school and as senior year hits, I realized I was entering the real world. I was known for helping with community services. I was in an anti bullying club, community service, and ones where we help kids with special needs. I enjoyed helping. I just didn’t enjoy school and didn’t enjoy staying home. Life was terrible except when I’m away from it helping. At the end of the school year, I didn’t graduate. I failed and was depress. Depression hit even harder than I’ve imagined. My parents didn’t say anything. I didn’t care. I realized that they weren’t as supportive. I also learn the fact that my biological father left me and we lost contact. I didn’t have anyone by my side. I didn’t have a best friend or someone helping me. My counselor gave me a chance by giving me packets to work on and I took it to help myself succeed. I slowly lost all of my friends and became an anti social person staying home watching my sisters as my parents go out and have fun. I stayed home. Months into independent study, I found out my mom had accidentally threw away my work. Months of work, gone. I feel like giving up now. All I could think of, suicide is the best choice. I never had the supportive family I wanted. My mother wants to kick me out and I have nowhere to go. I don’t have a diploma and I’m a failure. When I am depress, my way of escaping is through music. Through singing and guitar. I found out, I’m nothing more than a useless scum on this planet. Was I raised in the wrong family? This is the life I would never dream of….Depression, Pain, Bullies, Suicide, Abusive, Lonely …which lead me to drugs and alcohol. I’ve always wanted a better life. There is only one life. Today, I got in another fight with my mom. She called me a mother fucker and ***** for not washing the dishes. We fought and she wanted to kick me out. She says that I disrespected her and I did. It was because all of the words and anger from her words building up into me that I couldn’t handle and take anymore. I am crying and tearing up because I have no idea what to do with my life. I have no love ones around to comfort me. No 19 year old teen should be going through this situation, but I tried finding jobs and always depended on my parents to help me, but none. All she does is use me to babysit my sisters and she goes out to have fun with her friends. And goes home to release her anger at them… I just wish there was more to life, but there’s not. Suicide has been on my mind for hours.. sometimes days… and night. I just wish I had someone to be by my side. When I don’t even have family supporting me and caring about my thoughts. I feel like I should run away. But where to? I have no place. I have no friends. Suicide is my only option. Even as an atheist, I turn to god to be by my side because at this time, I really need god by my side. I really need more options than just suicide…