Ever since I could remember I have been bullied and made a social out cast not only at school but at home as well. My father is a bad man and he has since been put in jail. My older two brothers aren’t exactly model siblings, and my mum takes all her anger and frustration out on me, even though I’m not a defiant child.

So as far back as I can remember I have felt these depressing feelings and have suffered from many mental illnesses. My mother, whom does not believe in that kind of thing, has been emotionally and physicaly abusing me since I was eight. She’s angry? Pulls the cord to the frying pan out of the draw and wips me with it until I have bruises all over me.

Doesn’t like the ‘depressing’ look on my face? Sits on top of me and beats me until I stop screaming, because the more I scream the more she hits. When I was in grade 7, I finally learnt what it meant to be slightly chubby and  have bad social skills. I was bullied. My bag was thrown into the wheely bins, food was tipped on me when I had my back turned and all the kids scattered away from me like I was a disease. I had moves schools to get away from it, but history is doomed to repeat itself.

I didn’t know what self harming was in grade 7, nor mental illness, though I had been diagnosed with chronical depression. I loved the look of long nails, so I grew mine out. I also used them to take chunks of skin out of my wrists. Mum too me to the doctor several times, because she saw what I had done to myself, and I told her that there was a rash and it was itchy.

By the fourth visit to the doctor about this ‘rash’, he had me step outside the room while he spoke with mum. We drove home in silence. It wasn’t until we were home did she start yelling at me about doing it to myself.

From there, I became the highschool social out cast. I had no idea how to interact with people, I learnt that it wasn’t ‘normal’ to be attracted to the same sex (which I am) and everybody either thought I was shy or had a bad mouth.

No body sat with me. I sat alone for four years, everyday at lunch, I often stayed in the library. So grade nine rocks around, and I had moved the ‘skinning’ from my wrists to my thighs. And I met this girl. She had a blade on her, and I was curious to why. She knew I took skin off myself.

She showed me how to get a blade from a sharpener, and she cut her arm right in front of me. I remember her saying “it’s less painful than peeling skin off, but it bleeds more.”  She told me to do the same with my blade. I knew my mum would be mad if she saw cuts on my arms, so I cut my leg, really deep. I cut it so deep you could see the fat.

I remember her saying “it’s less painful than peeling skin off, but it bleeds more.” Well, from grade nine onwards I hacked myself up. And I still do. From there I made sort of friends with some of the other students who cut themselves, and there were more emos in that Christian school that I would have guessed.

After a while,our school had a High school camp. On that camp, the grade above us thought it would be funny to play a dirty prank on the outcast. Me. So I thought some of the older girls wanted to share a cabin and get to know me. I was happy. I thought I might actually get some girl bonding done for once in my life.

The second day in I was sitting in the cabin alone drawing when a girl from the cabin next door came in. She gave me a dirty look as she walked paet my bunk, and she called me scum. Of course I was confused, but than again that’s all I saw myself as anyway.

About 10m after it was afternoon tea, so I went and sat with the girls from my cabin and had a drink. I noticed that the people from my grade and the grade above were giving me dirty looks. So I gotunconformable. By this point I was suffering sever social anxiety and depression so that got to me very quickly.

A teacher comes up to me halfway through my tea, and says in front of everyone (no one was talking so my grade, and the grade above and below could hear what this teacher said) she said I had to go to my cabin and clean the bed and pick up the used pads I put on the bed.

By this point I was shocked. Yes, my period fell on the camp day, but it was light and finished hours after the camp started. I had one pad and that was in the sanitary bins. So after the teacher said that in front of about 60 people, my anxiety got the best of me and I was dragged into a panic attack.

I ran from the eating area. I finally knew why I was getting all those looks. Apparently the whole high school thought I had put the pad there. It turns out the girls from the grade above did it. I was socially humiliated.

200 high school students thought I did it. And they still do. I was laughed at by the girls in my grade and the grade above. It was that bad that I had to spend the rest of the camp in the teachers cabin for sleeping.

I’m in grade 11 now. I have suicidle thoughts. The girl who led me on is now putting her hands down my best friends shirt. Some fucking friend. My mother calls me disfuntional and a waste of space and money. And she’s not wrong. I have cut my legs up again tonight, and I’ve had my fill in life. I turn 16 in three months. And I’ve been thinking about ending my life before than. I don’t want to turn 16, I like being 15. I don’t want to grow up and face society.

I’m a fucked up human being with no life who is breathing air others might need. No one will miss me either. I don’t have anyone close to me anymore. I have given up. My body is scared and my mind is ruined and I’m a terrible person.

I hope all those people who have hurt me over the years, I hope they have a nice life. They’re happy because they caused me pain. Enjoy what shred of life you have taken from me. My mum always told me that if you’re gonna kill yourself, do it right the first time.

I know probably all of anyone who reads this (I doubt anyone will) will skip most of what I ahbe written . and I don’t blame you. I bet no one even reade the whole thing.

I hope that the rest of you guys have a lovely night, and that you all feel better. Because even though I might play my own card one day, even though we may have never met, I’m rooting for you. Don’t give up like I have. I was fucked from the beginning: you aren’t, so please don’t hurt yourself, or please eat something if you haven’t already. Your a wonderful person, and there will always be that one person who always cares about you. Have a nice evening.