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Demmissio

My Story…

by Demmissio
written by Demmissio

Lets see how much of this I can say without crying…

When I was 3 I moved from Michigan to Indiana because my parents got divorced. My mother immeadiatly got custody of me and my bother and sister. 3 years later my dad got remairred to a woman named Stephanie. She was nice most of the time, some of the time she was just awful. When my dad was gone she would scream and throw things. She secretly hated my father. All she wanted was a baby, but he couldn’t give her that. We all knew about this, but he never realized it. One night, […]

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Should I?

by Demmissio
written by Demmissio

I want to put my whole like life story on here, but I don’t think anyone would care. There are so many things I have never shared with anyone, and I want to get them out. I don’t think anybody would listen though.

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Stop Treating it as Something Good.

by Demmissio
written by Demmissio

I have a friend who fluants her scars. She treats them like a good thing. Thinks the make her more popular somehow. Here is some news for you, THOSE SCARS DONT MAKE YOU POPULAR. Great. You cut. So what. The rest of us are cutting for good reasons. So get your head out of tour ass because you have nothing to be sad about.

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Brand New Razor

by Demmissio
written by Demmissio

Four months. Four long months I went without cutting. All down the drain last night. There is about 42 cuts in a 1×2 inch patch on my leg. I guess there is no going back now. But I started a chain reaction in my friends. They started cutting again too. This is all my fault now all I want to do is cut more.

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in your face

by Demmissio
written by Demmissio

I started cutting again. My friends didn’t think I had the balls (pun intended since I’m a girl) well surprise mother fuckers. And I couldn’t get the smile off my face since I saw the blood. And razor, its been too long my old friend.

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Not sure what to do.

by Demmissio
written by Demmissio

My friends are telling me he is a player. He isn’t. He is nice to me, and he knows what its like to feel suicidal like I do. He knows what its like to be abused. He told me he cares about me and he wouldn’t know what to do if I killed myself. He tells me secrets he doesn’t tell anyone else. So why do all of my friends hate him?

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Anyone even listening?

by Demmissio
written by Demmissio

My friends have been telling me to get on here for months. But if nobody cares to look or respond then why bother. Nothing helps I’m already broken beyond repair. Not even friends bither. But Why do my friends have to be so hipocritical as to tell me I need help then not even care to try to make things better?

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Back to normal.

by Demmissio
written by Demmissio

Why cant things be like they were when I wasn’t depressed. When j could have worry free fun with friends. When I could be care free. When both me and my friends were happy? On the bus today I was asked who I like better, my abusive ex-stepfather or my verbally abusive psychotic mother. I picked my stepfather in an instant. That answer didn’t even shock me. I’m not sure why. It should. Either way life is hell and its not getting better. But does anyone care to help me? No.

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I don’t see the point.

by Demmissio
written by Demmissio

I’m sick of the drugs and pills, the panic attacks, the hatred, the lies, the abuse, the blood, the scars, the hospitals. Most of all: I’m sick of life. Why even try when nothing has gotten better? Why should I even get up in the noting if the day always ends with pain? Why should I go on when nothing anybody says helps? Why do people lie to me and say they care when they just end up leaving? Why should I even bother when nobody cares?

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