Being asked to take care of your 19 year old cousin’s kids because she abandons them, friends drama and my mother gettingÂ on my last nerves! please someone help me !Â Any advice ? I really need it ! 🙁
Today in class we were doing an activity, we had to draw our family tree and discuss the interesting things about our family. And of course, you can guess already, it is the worst thing for someone as broken as me.
Others talked about their siblings, about what their parents do, their grandparents. Me? What is the interesting thing of my family? My grandmother attempted suicide, my father is dead, I do not regard my mother, I dont know where my cousin is brought away by her stepmother.
And people are so stupid. All of them. I hate everyone.
I feel I am the only one who doesn’t belong anywhere.Am I the only one broken, the only one who has nothing left, the one unwanted? Why am I the only one? No matter how far away I run, the pain always catch up. And I’m sick of this.
I’ve thought about taking my life so many times. I know some say it’s the cowards way out and that someone always has it worse than me – Truth is, I’m just so fed up. I’m exhausted. It’s like things are so bad I just don’t even feel like getting out of bed. I have great friends but I just have so many emotional issues that even hanging out with them seems like a chore.
I was sexually molested and abused continuously when I was young. I didn’t even know to tell or what to do. My mom found out because there was blood in my underwear. And because of that I have problems with people touching me or getting close to me.
I always had problems making friends in school. They called me ugly, gay and ******. When I was in 7th grade some kids broke into my house through our sliding door and messed up the house and my stepdad beat me up. He punched me in my face and in my stomach and back and other places while cursing me out. He then called the police and they arrested him and took me to the another police car. I had to sit at the police station until my mom got home from work. I was laughing stock of the school. A CPS agent came and took pictures of my bruises. It was embarrassing. I moved away for a year and then came back home and soon after my stepdad accused my mom and I of having sex. He claimed he actually saw us. That really hurt me and I became much more withdrawn and I turned to alcohol to ease my pain. One time my mom got mad and turned over all the furniture, broke the TV, some plates and the christmas tree leaving broken ornaments and glass on the floor for a week. One day my stepdad threatened to get his gun and kill us and said he had a dream he called me over to visit, shot me, then shot my mom then shot himself. This went on for years until I finally moved out but everytime I’d go home to visit my mom he’d say the same thing. I was verry worried for my mom all the time. Then next thing I know my family is accusing me of sleeping with my cousin. I wrecked my car and she let me use hers since we worked at the same job and my family’s first impression is I’m sleeping with her. At the time I was still a virgin and hadn’t been with anyone ever unless you count the molesting. I’m just so exhausted and it’s no matter what I do, the people I love continue to hurt me. My dad never made an attempt to see me, contact me, visit me or anything. The last time I talked to him was because he called to speak with my mom about cutting off the child support. Then he up and died and I never got a chance to meet him. On top of all of that, I have gynecomastia thats very painful. A doctor confirmed I have to get the surgery or do hormones because it’s breast tissue. I can’t exercise it away. Unfortunately, even though I told the insurance company and my doctor confirmed that not only is physical but also emotionally painful, they still wouldn’t cover the surgery so I just have to live with my chest hurting and being chaffed, raw and red unless I can come up with $6500. I just can’t deal with it all.Â I think about just ending it all because those scars are there and they hurt 🙁 I just don’t know what to do. Somedays im ok, then other days im down, but then other days I’m ready to crash my car into a tree or OD on pills. I just want to stop hurting. That’s all. I don’t like people to touch me, I don’t like others to touch me. It’s messing up my personal life. I can’t date anyone bc i get into moods where I don’t want to talk or be around anyone. I just want to be normal. :”'(
I have been battling depression since I was 12. In the beginning, people dismissed it easily. My parents thought I was just a “moody teenager”. I got used to simply distracting myself, locking myself in my room, listening to music, reading books and writing poetry as a release, almost like every other teenager it seemed, so I guess you could not really blame them for not noticing. The main difference between me and most of my peers from school was that I had self-harm thoughts at least since I was 14. When I was 13 I witnessed my cousin’s abuse (mainly emotional but some physical). He was 8 at the time. I have always had an empathetic heart and it pained me deeply to see him hurt, it was one major contributor to why I changed from a talkative child to a quiet, solitary teenager. Back in middle school I was known as “Lil Miss Councellor” because I was a good listener to other people’s problems. The thing that they didn’t know was that every sad story I’d hear would have a lasting effect on me. I’d literally feel the pain as if I was the one going through those problems.Â When I was 16, I spoke to my dad and told him that I thought I needed help. Dad just said that he doesn’t think so, all I need is to be positive. At 18 I went to college, determined to change my life around. So from a solitary person, I flipped a 180 and became the most talkative, most friendly person I could be. I got bit in the arse for that. Too friendly, I became. I would get hyper, then I would get depressed. Less then a year later, I reverted back to being depressed. In that same year I met the guy that was soon to become my boyfriend. He helped me out when we were friends. I was homeless at one point, and he would often help me out by driving me around to places and sometimes help me get settled somewhere for the night. I was 19. Despite being matured for my age in many matters,-I could have very grown up conversations at 12 and I helped raise young family members- I was very much inexperienced with guys that weren’t “just friends”. I was a tomboy as a child and when I was in school, even at 16, the idea of a boyfriend eeked me out a little, even though I had occasional crushes here and there.
I had my first boyfriend and first serious relationship at 19. The guy was 5 years older than me but was (and I believe still is) very immature for his age. Quite often I had to give in to him, quite the same way I would give in to my little 5 year old sister. I don’t know what it was, it must have been my lack of experience, my lack of social exposure, my feeling unsure about how a relationship should be like, that led to me becoming submissive, and eventually dependent on him. This was not at all who I was, I had grown up being independent, despite being depressed. I’m quite reserved when it comes to sexual matters, and he knew that I didn’t want to have sex. But he kept pushing his way. Eventually I’d succumb to it. Very often I’d tell him I don’t want to do any of that. But he’d still try, aggressively. He’d touch me without my permission, and when I say no, he’d try again after a few minutes or so. One day it got too far. I didn’t want to talk about it. Two days later, he tried to “jog my memory” by forcing himself on me. After that day I felt worthless. He knew I was trying to cope. It wasn’t even a week after the incident that he asked to have sex with me. Being in that state where I felt like I was even lower than being worthless, I didn’t stop him. I was too depressed to do anything about it, I let him have his way. It went on for months, eventually I made myself think of it as an enjoyable thing. (It may sound strange to most people, but I have never enjoyed sex. It’s meant to be enjoyable but for me it’s disgusting and painful and eeky. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.) So eventually there were times when it became consentual. Although most of the time I didn’t like it. But everytime I’d say no, it never got to his head. He’d blame me for little things, but he could never admit blame to big things. We got stopped by the cops, for something that we BOTH did. Until this day he blames me for it. He humiliated me in front of my family, he still doesn’t accept the blame. His girlfriend after me cut herself because of something he did. He managed to make a mutual friend of ours, the kindest most patient person I have ever known in my life, nearly slap him in public. I use to justify everything he did. I’d blame myself for how he made me feel because I enabled it. And I still blame myself. But not too deep down I am still filled with rage towards him. Don’t get me wrong, I am over him in that kind of way. I never really loved him anyway, although back then I thought I did. But I have trouble getting over what he did, and what I allowed him to do.
After we broke up, I did tremendously well. I became a positive thinker, inspiring other people. I learnt how to deal with my depression, although occasionally i would have my episodes. I had erased all the bad memories I had with my ex, at least on the conscious level. I met a new guy, and he treated me well. But one day, as I was working on set in my university, I received a text message from my ex. He was apologizing. When I asked what was happening, he said his girlfriend broke up with him. I didn’t want to think badly about him, even though my best guy friend warned me that he was probably trying to get back with me. A few weeks later he texted me again asking for advice on how to change. He admitted to being emotionally abusive and wanted to know what he needed to fix. Thinking that everything was behind us now, I tried to help him. Eventually we became friends again. But this time, he hurt me even worse. He’d bring up the past that I had blocked out and treated me worse than before, I had to cut ties with him for good. I thought that it was over. But I still struggle when I remember how he forced himself on me, how he took advantage of me when I was feeling vulnerable and useless, how I wasn’t strong enough to stop it. Â At one point I picked up drugs to help me cope. I’ve stopped now, mostly. Although occasionally I still do it.
On top of everything else happening and happened within myself since childhood-being an outcast, treated like a freak, witnessing abuse, being too empathetic that I absorb people’s miseries, suspicions of me having a learning disability and a personality disorder- I had now this big part of my life to get over. It became too much. I seeked professional help. I’ve seen at least 5 professionals in this year itself. I have had suicidal thoughts. I hurt myself a number of times before. And now I am tired of everything. I am tired of my instability. I am tired of myself. I am tired of seeing professionals because a) I don’t have the patience to follow through or b) I don’t feel like they understand. I try to stay positive. And sometimes I am completely fine and happy, but a few minutes later I drift to depression. I have my good days where I laugh a lot and play a lot, and sometimes get a little too hyper. Then I’d have days of feeling low. Some nights I’d have trouble sleeping, I’d get irritable and feel suffocated like I’m choking and can’t breathe. The latest therapist I went to said that there was a possibility that I have bipolar 2. But I’ve stopped seeing her. Everytime I return from therapy, lately it seems, that I just get exhausted. I tell them almost eveything, except the problems that I had with my ex. In my mind, I know that I should talk about it, because it may be a good starting point, a major key to my downfall. The reason that even though I was recovering earlier, I have now gotten worse. But I suppose I don’t want to talk about it because it makes me feel like shit everytime I do. I get embarassed. I’d rather be in denial. And you can imagine I have major trust issues, so talking to someone about this without anonymity is a very difficult thing for me.
Yesterday I decided to stop trying. And just deal with my life on a day to day basis. Deep down, I know it’s a bad idea. But honestly I’m tired of the inner turmoil that happens within me every day. But I worry, because suicidal thoughts haven’t really left me. The main thing stoping me is the idea that death would bring no relief to me and would devastate my family. It doesn’t stop me from hurting myself. I’m afraid that I may one day impulsively end my life, just as how I sometimes impulsively hurt myself. I’m sorry that this post is extremely long, but I needed to get it all out. I felt like suicide an hour ago and started searching for websites and came across this one. The article I read earlier guided me here and I hope that I have done something good by sharing this here.
I hate OWLS. It’s said if you hear an owl cry it means someone you know is going to die.
I thought I was done hearing them after my boyfriends cousin died from Cancer last summer. Today I find out that Talia died. I’m so sorry for anyone who has or knows someone who’s going through this. Idk, I just decided to write what I felt because I’m sad, and all this brings memories from when Ernie my boyfriends cousin passed away. I always thought life was so hard for me, but it’s harder for people suffering.
Rest in piece to all the souls that were taken away so young, if you guys know who Talia is please send prayers to her family. & for those who don’t know Talia, well sheÂ was a makeup guru only 13 on YoutTube she died today at 11:22 AM. She was a big inspiration to me and others, so for those who don’t know her please also said positive energy to her family, and keep them in your prayers.
Well, I guess, My story starts about 1 year ago… I had been struggling with Insomnia and would do anything to get a full nights rest. I was mean, angry and on the verge of tears constantly. My friend had the same issue, but not as bad, her mom had bought some all natural sleeping aids. They worked great for myÂ friend and I was envious! I had asked my mom as soon as I heard about the success, if she could maybe be open to me trying them out.. I was shut down so fast… I was angry and hurt that she had said no…. I took measures into my own hands, I took about 10 pills, and stashed them in my room. I was sleeping great, I was getting back on track, my grades were picking up again… I felt better than I had in months. One night I went to stay at a friends house, and in the morning I woke up to my mom at her front door… fuming…
My mom found out who had supplied me with the pills and I was forbidden from ever going to my best friends house again… I was grounded for months and I slipped into a deep depression. I had always had issues… Even before the pills, my mom has always been a very verbally abusive person. Constantly yelling or calling me names.. ” Evil and Useless”..” F*cking brat!!!” rang in my ears quite a bit. I was always fighting for my say in things, or even just defending myself. Throughout my grounding and separation from my best friend, the fighting and screaming became worse and worse. I cried my self to sleep ( if I even slept) every night. To make things even more difficult I had recently just lost my aunt and young cousin in a car accident. I was drowning in depression, I couldn’t take it anymore… I began to think of what it would be like to be done… with breathing, oh how delicious it would feel to be free right? Many nights I would walk into the bathroom and think, tonight the night?.. or maybe tomorrow? At one point I even opened the bottle, I was ready to go. I didn’t want to be in the world anymore, with it’s traitors and its pain.. but something always made me put the bottle down… I’m not sure what it was. Until recently I hadn’t wrote letters… I had always thought, if they put me through so much pain.. why should I care if they knew why I did it? Right? Wrong!
Just a few days ago after yet another fightÂ with my momÂ … I wrote letters to my best friend and my parents.. I thought.. Maybe, they should know why I am gone.. I am their only baby girl… The letters are up in my closet… I haven’t torn them.. I haven’t touched the bottle of pills… I finally told my best friend about my thoughts… She was very upset and confused.. When I explained my depression.. it felt like I was trying to justify why I felt like I felt. I felt judged, in the worst way… I don’t know if that bottle will call to me at another point. I pray it keeps its mouth shut. I am still veryÂ much depressed, obviously if I wrote letters a few days ago… I am fighting.. I think for my grandparents… Imagining them at my funeral breaks me.. I couldn’t put them through that right..? I think for every person… struggling to keep your head above the waves of Â pain… Try and find someone dear to fight for… It very well may have saved my life…
I have a story, just like everyone else. It’s complicated, just like everyone’s, but I’m still different. I won’t explain it all, I won’t tell you all the sappy shit that goes on, because what good will that do? I was always told that the past doesn’t define you, so you should grow up. Right now I don’t feel like growing up, not just yet. Right now I want to live in a moment where I am the person that I have always wanted to be and that my parents will actually be proud of me and not try to change me to their standards. Right now, I love my family and hate them all at the same time. I love my new little sister and my new little brother and my new little cousin and I love my friends and I love the people that made me the person I am, especially the shitty people that I have to say “Fuck you all” to. Yeah, I have a story, yeah I have a life, but the candle is soon diminishing. Soon, if I don’t become the person that my father wants me to be, my freedom will be taken from me and I will not be the same person as I was before. Soon I will become a zombie that does exactly whatever my father wants me to; a slave with no mind. Most likely I’ll have to put up my paint brushes and my writing pen and put my professional glasses on and become a person that I never wanted to be because I always wanted my life to be exciting. And, when my freedom is taken away, I will never be able to see my mother and my step-dad and my little brother anymore because I did not act the way my father wanted me to, because I gave him the kind of attitude that is not tolerated. And when I continue to fight back, I will not see my little sister or my friends, every freedom and thing in the world will be taken away from me on the account that I did not become the person my father wanted. I always thought that I had to please my step-mom and gain her favor while I lived in her house, but it was the other way; I had to gain my father’s favor, his love and affection, I had to change myself just to please him. So, this is me before anything is changed, this is me in this one moment where I love everyone and I am happy, and I’m glad that I can share it with all of you. You, the people who don’t know me, you who know my pain and understand my scars and my thoughts. I can’t live without my freedom, so if I cannot have it, why should I live at all? I will despise myself for giving up, like I would despise all of you who just gave up and didn’t swim to the island that was filled with all your hopes and dreams, but everyone gives up eventually. For me that time may come soon.
I made an earlier post. You can click it here: http://suicideproject.org/2013/06/200363/
In there, it sounded like everything was great in my life and in my past. I think I should shed some light on that. Everything started when I was five years old.
My grandmother was a terrible woman and I was her latest punching bag. She had done this to my father and was now doing it to me. She would hit me, humiliate me, insult me, and other things as well.
I remember her always calling me trailer trash, no matter what I did or wore. Sometimes, I wasn’t allowed to finish a whole meal because I was ‘too fat’ to keep eating. She would call me a pig if I tried to finish my whole meal. It was horrible. I remember something that has stuck with me for a while.
I was staying over at her house one day. She told me not to answer the phone. Five minutes later, my mom called. I saw the caller ID and automatically picked it up. After I said hi, she snatched the phone from me and talked with her for a while. Then, I was dragged to the kitchen by my shirt.
There, I was yelled at and slapped before being beaten with a wooden spoon. I tried to run but she caught me by my hair. I clawed at the wall, trying to hold myself there so I could escape the hits. She pulled me back and beat me more with the spoon before I ran to the back room and collapsed on the bed, crying.
My five year old cousin came to the doorway of the room and my grandmother was behind him. She said ‘that is what happens to bad people.’
You’re probably wondering why I didn’t tell my mom. Well, I did, after six years of going through all this. I cried it to her while I was on a trip with them and my cousin to Florida. I had used my grandpa’s cell phone to call her and it just all came out. My grandfather told on me and I was dragged to the back room in the condo. She slapped me and yelled at me for telling my mom so called lies.
I haven’t seen her since then. Problem solved, huh? No. It still haunts me. Whenever I think back to it, I feel like it just happened yesterday. I’m even tearing up now as I write this down.
That was the first thing that happened. Just the tip of my ice burg. Then came the bullying.
I transferred to a new school district when I started sixth grade, the worst time to go to a new school with new people. I was stuck with people who had known each other since kindergarten and I was alone. I was vulnerable and preyed on for it. A girl would harass me everyday in class.
She didn’t care what time of day it was, what we were doing, if she wanted to bully me, she did. She would follow me around the cafeteria and the classroom. It got to the point where I was begging my mom to not make me go to school each day. Finally, I told my mom about it all.
You would think I should have just told her when it all happened. Not that easy. The experience with my grandmother had programmed me to not think I was worth of being saved, that I deserved that treatment. Only when I was pushed to the edge did I tell. I had been pushed to the edge and I then told.
The rest of the year was still hard. The whole class ganged up on me, not just her. It’s harder to deal with an entire class rather than just one person. One day, I had a point where I snapped in class. A girl had insulted me and then turned away. I had a newly sharpened pencil stabbed her in the bag with it.
All it did was shock her and the class.
The next year was drama drama drama.
Also, it was when my depression to its first major dip. My thoughts turned to that of killing myself. I told my counselor and all she basically said was to be positive. I was thinking about killing myself while I had depression I was being told to be positive. Fucking stupid thing to say if you ask me.
That same year, the thoughts increased until I had to tell them. I was put on two new medications. They worked for a while and the next year was better for me.
Over the summer, though, things went really down hill. I started having extreme anxiety attacks, just feeling like I was about to die. I also overdosed on half a bottle full of 200mg pills. I was in the hospital two days, lucky my liver hadn’t been damaged.
That school year was good at first. Then, it took a turn for the worst. The bullying started up again and at full force. In my math class, people yelled at me, insulted me, threw things at me (I.e food, paper, pencils, etc.), and I was being harassed again.
This girl was relentless. She threw rocks at me, pencils, stuck gum in my hair, shouted at me, and tried running me down in the gym. I only escaped that because a friend tapped my arm and I jumped away just in time. She ran straight through exactly where I had been standing. If I hadn’t moved, she would have run me down and just run right over me.
Eventually, the school got involved and she was put in another gym class. Then, after a few weeks, she transferred schools as well. Probably her parents doing.
After Spring break, I was back in school and missed the bus to my other campus. I went to the library but the librarian had to go to lunch so I went to the front office. I was sitting in an office chair behind the front desk when a blank spot just happened.
I was told that I fell off the chair, started convulsing, and then didn’t breathe for so long my face turned blue. It stopped just before it was fatal and I relaxed, still unconcious. When I opened my eyes, everything was hazy because my brain was fogged and my glasses had fallen off. I lifted myself up a bit, looked over the desk before laying back down and falling asleep.
Next thing I know, my glasses were being put back on me and I was being loaded into an ambulance via a stretcher. That was incredibly scary and I cried half of the ride to the hospital.
Some cautionary tests were taken, the one that found I had epilepsy being a just in case one. It was taken weeks after the seizure had happened and the seizure brainwaves were still there so it was a pretty severe seizure.
Well, now I had depression and epilepsy to deal with. But it doesn’t stop there.
The next year, I reached my lowest point ever. I fell into the deepest hole I thought possible. Whenever I was close to coming up, I would fall and the whole would be even deeper.
I started to cut myself to distract from the constant pain in me. Everything was overwhelming me and I couldn’t take it. I tried to slit my wrists but nothing happened, the blade wasn’t sharp enough.
I snapped a month before my birthday and went crazy on my mom. I slapped her multiple times and she called the police. I turned into a mad woman, banging and screaming at her bedroom door before it all wore off. I went back upstairs and got in bed only to be awakened later, put in cuffs, and shoved in a police car.
The next day was one of the most unpleasant ones I’ve ever had and that’s saying something.
After that, I was on another steady decline. Things had been going down since sixth grade but so slowly it was hardly noticed. Now, an avalanche had seemed to happen. Something broke off an caused everything to lose control. I tried overdosing again and renewed my efforts in cutting. My mom found out and tried to help me stop.
Another thing happened. I developed a fear of people and leaving my house. Whenever I was around people, I would go into a huge anxiety attack and just break. For two weeks, I was let out of school by my mom since I was literally incapable of going.
She made arrangements for me to go to a treatment center which I did. It was hell at first. I was so traumatized at that point that I couldn’t even leave the nurses station. It was from that to not being able to leave my room. Slowly, I got a bit better and I had more tests on me.
Turns out, I had two more conditions I didn’t know about. Cerebral Disrhythmia. It is a disorder that mixes up your senses and causes problems. Mine was in the limbic system (emotions) and gave me abnormal emotional reactions for things. That was where my anxiety to people had come from.
After a little over 6 weeks, I was taken home. For a while after that, things were amazing. Nothing good ever seems to last for me, though. The bullying returned in a class of mine.
These people insulted me, threw paper at me, food at me, and stuck things to my back. Other people threw paper balls at me from across the room(one person threw paper with their name on it). Then, hey were throwing gummy bears right in my face. That stopped after some weeks.
I also have another disorder. A non-verbal learning disorder. The only difference between that and azberger’s is that I’m not autistic. Read up on azberger’s and you’ll know what I’m talking about.
Well, that’s my story. All of it. All that has happened to me but in a summarized version. Hope I shed some light on my earlier post. :/
Well, I’m the girl everyone thinks is happy. They all come to me with their problems. No one would suspect that I’ve dealt with depression and suicidal thoughts as long as I can remember…
I know the first time I remember wanting to die was when I was 7 years old. When I voiced this thought to my mother, she said she would hit me if I ever said that again.
I remember I was about 12 or 13 when I first started cutting and starving myself. No one thought anything of my rapid weight loss; kids go through stages where they suddenly lose their baby fat.
I went to juvi at 12…. dropped out of school at 15…
Many close family members, including my brother like cousin and my dear grandma, have passed on. Its difficult when the few people who care about you die, leaving you all alone. I’ve never had many friends. The one friend I have I can’t bring myself to talk to about any of this. I fear if I told any one they would over react, or be too okay with it.
I got laid off my job in january… ever since I have filled out atleast 20 applications each month, but no one calls back. I’m still living with my alchoholic abusive mother and control freak father. Id move out if I could but I can’t afford it. Its hell here. We are all just as broken as eachother, pretending everything is okay. Every day I think more and more about just getting it over with. I doubt I can stand it another month. People always tell me their problems. I feel bad for them sometimes, and I know a lot of people have it worse than me! but I can’t help asking What about me? They would never notice if I was having a bad day.
I don’t know if id ever kill myself… but I like to keep these bottles of oxycodone and vicodin around just in case.
I doubt ill ever be okay. I’m forever alone.
I’m 13 years old. I would tell you my name, but being new here, I don’t know if I can trust you all to that extent yet. Normally, I post poems that reflect how I feel at the moment, or how I felt throughout the day, but right now I’d like to get a few things off my chest. I’ve told a few of my friends some of this before, but no one knows all of it at its worst. I feel as though I can trust all of you with at least this, even if I don’t know you. So here it goes.
When I was little my grandparents lived only a few blocks away, and my parents tried to convince me to visit them as often as possible. I refused as often as possible. I don’t know why, but I always hated going there. I only ever enjoyed going there when my cousin went to and we would have a sleepover. I would only ever play with her when we did that, and I didn’t really pay attention to my grandparents.
Boy do I regret that now.
Whenever I refused my dad (as they were his parents) would say “you know they won’t be here forever. You should spend more time with them.” But I didn’t. I never did. I never wanted to. I thought I had plenty of time. Years and years and years and years. But I didn’t. I only had a few years.
My grandparents moved from their house a few blocks away to a motor home in my backyard, and they planned on going down to Georgia for the winter every year. Even after my grandparents moved into my yard, I still didn’t visit them often. Making up excuses such as being too busy, having too much homework, etc.
Winter came around(I cant remember if it was the first or second winter when it happened) and tragedy struck. My grandpa became sick. I didn’t visit them often, so I didn’t even know what had happened. All I remember is waking up one morning and there being ambulances and police cars scattering my yard, driveway, and even a few in the street. I held in tears all morning. My mom told me what happened afterwards at the bus stop because i had asked her not to tell me yet because i didnt want to cry in front of my grandpa (I knew there was something wrong yet i just didnt know what exactly).
We had state testing at school that day. I had just finished when I was called down to the office. I knew what it was. He was either dead,or almost dead. I met my younger brother half way down the hall.
Oh God, my brother. He was so little. My grandpa couldn’t leave now. His birthday was in a few months! He had to stay he just HAD to, but he didn’t he didn’t stay. I left the hospital that night and i remember my dad said he was going to stay a little longer. I said goodbye to my dad and my exact words were “Tell grandpa I love him, and give him a hug for me.”
I went to the hospital every day until he passed (which was that Sunday and if I remember correctly he was put int he hospital on thursday). I was glad that on Saturday I had gotten the courage to go into his room and see him one last time, but afterwards I went back home and saw a picture of him. He looked so healthy and happy. His hands weren’t purple. He was standing, smiling.
Now, I regret every time I said I didn’t want to visit him, every moment I didn’t spend with him. I wish I could go back and change everything. But I can’t. Now I need to remember that he wouldn’t want to see me cry over him. He would want me to be happy. I need to stay strong. Stay strong for him.
But sometimes it’s too much. Bullies at school, my awful luck of breaking a bone while still healing from my last break, parents yelling. Theres too much stress. To much sadness. Sometimes I just cant take it. I cut. I wish I didn’t, but it’s how I cope sometimes. One of my friends told me to tell an adult, to get help. But if my parents found out they’d be mad, so mad that I would do something like that. A therapist would piss me off. After people found out, I would be bullied. I just can’t. I need to do this on my own.
i tried to kill myself. more than once actually. i was put in the hospital for 3 weeks. and while i was in there i was happy. i was that happy and excited kid i was before depression took over me. but as soon as i got out everything went back to the way it was before. my mom and dad scream and yell at me all the time, they make me feel worthless, and they make me just want to run away and never look back. My brother lives in a different city and i haven’t talked to him in a long time. me and my sister are close i guess. but i don’t tell her how i feel. and honestly i think she wants to die and just be done with this whole family, and it kills me even more to think about loosing her. my cousin suffers with depression and has told me she thinks about ending it all. she’s 10. she absolutely should not be feeling like that. i have told her mom about it, but she is to busy with her other daughter to even pay any attention. if she ever hurt herself i wouldn’t know what to do. i hate depression. i have a pretty messed up life. i’m in grade 9. i’m not getting any credits this year. and i don’t talk to any of my friends i had last year, or even a few months ago. so i’m alone. with this sickness. that i never thought i would have to deal with. it has never been worse than it is right now. i know people have it worse out there, and i shouldn’t even be complaining but the weight of everything is getting to heavy. i want to die. In fact if i died right now i wouldn’t mind. as long as the people around me were happy and safe.
But if i could live, and hate myself and be so depressed and hurt, and broken.. i would, if it would mean that depression would disappear from everyone else. because i would rather me hurt and be broken than anyone else have to feel the way i feel.
I’m a *****.
And I’m done with this nightmare i call life.
hi my name is umair ad i am 21 years old my story of life is very unique when i was 5 year old my cousin said me that she loves me she was just 4 years old and now our love is 17 years old this is very strange we started to love each other when we did not know the meaning of love but i think we started to loveÂ because we born for each other i was living very happy life with her but at the start of this year my cousin told me Â that her parents are looking for a good boy to marry with her i becameÂ frustrated and i told my mother that i love my cousin but she say i will never allow you to marry her she is not a good girl .but the fact is that my mother met with her just one time and i know her from 17 years i know she is the best girl i ever saw but today my mom says even if you die i will never allow you to marry her i am veryÂ dippers ed i love my mother she is very good but i cant leave my love i did not tell my love that my mother is not supporting her instead i told her thatÂ Â my mother will come to your home to talk to your parents after 2 years .i am very sad i lied to her for the first time in my life because i can not see my love sad. now i do not want to live, my friends says that you are very talented dont waste your life you will become good for humanity but frankly speaking i have no feelings in me i never feel happy my mind remains confuse everytime i started to forget things like what i haveÂ eaten one hour before i don not know why my mother is doing that with me, my brother went to america and he married with a girl and did not tell my mother but when she became aware of his marriage she did not scold him,my another brother have three crushes and my mother supports him and now he is living happily with his love but, she scolds me every time that you areÂ interestedÂ in a girlÂ Â and etc.i post here because i just want to know a way to end my life i dont want to live more than 8 months but i want to end my life by doing something good Â e.g some Â social workÂ or something else.please suggest me??
Hey everyone , you can call me Reem . I’m 16 years old and live in Saudi Arabia .. at the first look at me you’ll see a normal girl who has an amazing life , who doesn’t need anything and has no reason to be sad or deprssed , but that proves you don’t know me ..
I’ve been holding this for a long , long , long time … I forgot even when it all started , but I wanna let it out and share it in order to fully open up for the first time in my life !
when I was little I was molested by my aunt’s son .. my uncle’s son saw it all and started blackmailing me asking for what he saw .. I didn’t know what to do except keep saying no .. and then I met this cousin of mine , he was sweet , caring and he listened to me .. that was when I was 9 …
when I reached 12 I told him about what happened between me and my aunt’s son .. He came up to me after 2 days telling me he doesn’t wanna talk to me anymore because of what happened .. I was heartbroken , he was the first onlyÂ person who listened to me and were there for meÂ .. I was forced to feel unloved and aloneÂ since I was 12 .. I started noticing my flaws .. comparing myself with every girl I see , I stopped eating cause I realized I was fat and convinced myself that me being fat is a reason why none of the girl like talking to me..
The next year was my first year in middle school , I made up my mind on starting new this year and trying to get over everything .. I met these girls , they were funny , hilarious .. and sweet .. I ruined what they had with me with lies ..
I kept telling them a lie after a lie .. and ironically I thought they believed it when they were making fun of me behind my back .. and when they confronted me with those lies I told .. I froze .. I realized that what I have done was wrong … I was speechless .. obviously they stopped talking to me ..
a year later I met my aunt’s son (that asshole) and he looked straight in the eye .. like he didn’t do anything wrong to me .. like it’s ok that he ruined my childhood and made nightmares haunt me since I was an innocent little child ..
I grew up being perverted thanks to what he did to me .. I saw him in every guy .. I couldn’t trust anyone after that look he gave me .. I felt cold , heartless .. I began to turn like him .. after all he had his imprint on me
after 2 yearsÂ , at the beginningÂ of this school year .. I went to the same highÂ school that those girls from middle school went to .. I thought it’d be ok to start fresh with themÂ , and I didÂ .. no more lies , no more heartlessness.. thenÂ something that broke me to the core happened …
I had a friend who I helped once , his name is Alex and he’s aÂ selfharmer .. I promised him that I’ll always be there for himÂ , he told me he felt loved when I told him that promise ….Â 3 months after that , I heard about his overdose … I was Devestated , I didn’t know what to do or what to say .. I broke my promise , I wasn’t there for him when he needed me like I said I would .. I’m a hypocrite liarÂ and a promise breaker … that’s what I am Â
I spent my whole week on my bed crying .. the last 2 days I cried feeling numb like I forgot why I was crying in the first place .. one day my older sister walked in and asked why I haven’t been eating for the last 4 weekz .. I ignored her .. she said :”you’re worthless , you know that , right ? you’r just an extra number in this family that’s all” .. To make her shut up I got every little scrap of the energy left in me and went to the bathroom .. crying silently and hitting the walls and punching my thighs didn’t make me feel better like it used to .. and then I realized that I stopped feeling .. looked in the mirror and saw that I was crying like I never did , My eyes were swallon red with dark circles around them for not sleeping and having nightmares all night long .. I looked down at my hands and I saw them covered with bruises from hitting the walls .. my thighs are even worse … and I kept asking myselfÂ “when did this all happen ? where have I been ? did I truly did this to myself ? seriously ?”Â to be honest , I didn’t feel sad about it .. I didn’t feel madÂ ,Â disgusted or any of those things .. I couldn’t feel my senses .. I just felt the coldÂ , you know what I mean ?
I asked myself “bruises , Scratches .. what else Reem ? how low can you get” .. I lookedÂ down at my arms and used my nailÂ to cut deep ..Â I wanted to feel something .. I NEEDED to feel something .. a couple of blood drops fell on the wet floor .. it felt amazingÂ , relieving and safe .. it was the only pain I could control ..
yes ..I started cutting using my nails and twice only I used the scissors .. A lot of people haven’t noticed that I’ve been wearing long sleeves or anything of that so I thought I was safe .. I told my so called friend at school about it and showed them my cuts .. they kept lecturing me saying “Open your eyes ! Look around , you have a great life you should be grateful” I didn’t say anyhting as always , I stayed quiet ..
that was 4-5 months ago .. now I haven’t cut since My little sister saw my cuts and told me that she was afraid of me going to hell for killing myself ..the look on her eyes .. yes IÂ felt relievedÂ when I did it .. but still I didn’t wanna hurt my little sister ..
and now , I’m ashamed of what I used to do , yet I still hurt but I don’t show it .. I bury it deep inside of me ..I rememeber these lines from the song I bleed by Outcast youth :
“I try everyday just to keep getting better
to block out the thoughts but I’m under the weather
the pressure is building , I need to release
I’m out of my depths and I’m feeling week
I’m sick of this pain and I want it to end
my oldestÂ enemy and my only friend
a blade in my hand and my life in front of me ,
I’m Stranded between relapse and recovery”
I relate to that song soo much .. and now Everyone looks at me like I’m a life savior and an inspiration while I break everyday in my room remembering that promise I broke … they don’t know how many long nights I’ve stayed up crying ..they don’t know how many nights I’ve stayed up on my bed for no goddamn reasonÂ ..
and now I’m constantly torn between killing myself or killing everyone around me …
what should I do ? I don’t wanna hurt anyone anymore …
Hey everyone !
I guess I just need some place safe to share my story before I put an end to it.
I am almost 18 now and since the day I was born I never found anything that was worth living for.
My dad used to beat up my mom , so I would stay with my grandma sometimes , so that I didn’t have to witness it. Growing up my mom ended up finding a way to escape with me and my brothers.
We were okay for a while…
My dad didn’t care about me anymore , and I had serious self esteem issues. All that led to series of self-harming sessions.
About 3years ago we moved to another country. I had to make new friends , learn to speak the language and the 1st year was really hard. So self-harming continued.
About a year ago my 1st boyfriend left me and I tried to commit suicide. I can assure you I spent the most horrible night of my lie in the hospital. But the worst part is , everyone kept saying I was really lucky to be alive.
I didn’t feel lucky at all , and I still don’t.
A year passed by and my oncle died of cancer.
My cousin , the only person that could understand me , moved away with her boyfriend because like me , she couldn’t stand living with these people anymore.
I found this guy. This dammaged poor guy. I loved him like I never loved someone in my life. I’m the kind of person that gets on with people really easy , but also leaves them really easy. But he was different.
I’m insane , and so is he.
Now he left me , because I took him for granted.
My mom spends her whole day in front on the computer , she is alone.
I hate her more than everything in this world. The other day she told me that never in her life she could imagine this kind of relationship with one of her kids.
She told me I should quit school , get a job and find a nice guy to start my life with.
She is insane too , she tatooed the name of a fake profile she met on the internet .
I can’t even remmember the last time she hugged me and actually meant it.
Anyways , I can’t repaire any of that. I can’t repaire myself no more.
I am broken , and I need a way out.Â
i don’t even know why i’m on here. it’s not like people want to know about me anyways, but ohkay. i’m cat and i turn 15 in november. i’ve been suffering with OCD, depression, anxiety and body dysmorphic disorder (BDD). the body dysmorphic disorder is the worst because i got homeschooled because of it. i would sit there and stare at myself for hours and cry when i should be getting ready. i would punch myself in the face or wrists and pull my hair or skin. i started out just being constantly late to school, but now i’m so afraid of people seeing me how i see myself. i got bullied growing up, i’m sure everyone has, but i got stabbed and choked until i passed out by people i thought were my friends. i grew up without a dad because he raped my mom, so i know myself as a rape accident. people get mad when i don’t take compliments, but i try to explain i don’t believe them. i honestly hate myself and see myself as one big flaw. i see every little detail in myself only to hope every person in public doesn’t see any of them. i gave up on trying to impress people because i always got thrown down. now every word they said infected my brain and it’s all true to me. i beat myself up inside and out so other people don’t have to. i actually made a date to shoot myself in the head, and every time i fight with my family i just want to blurt it out. the only one who really understands what i’m going through is my sister. i am actually holding her life with mine. aside that, my cousin puts me down all the time. telling people bad things about me, telling me what i can or can’t do. i’ve given up so much and i just want to feel like… ohkay at least. i don’t expect happiness because i think it’s a lie, but i just want to be better.
It wasn’t violent, the attempted rape. It was mostly tearful, with me pleading for the man to stop. And sick and disgusting. It smelled gross and dirty. I could smell his sweat, I can still smell his sweat. I will never forget it. I will still remember the scent after he got done, after he realised I want going to let him. I fought in my drunkenness.
He had told me that he wanted to talk to me.
William Triplett was his name. He was an ex of mine, and I had just turned 16, and he was 25. I was desperate to find someone who was mature. I was desperate to find someone who cared about me deeply. I didn’t want a typical teenager relationship; the urging for sex or for oral or whatever. I thought an older man was the way to go. I wanted love, and nothing more. I didn’t want sex, I was a virgin, and still am. I just wanted to be held and feel warmth. But he didn’t understand.
How terribly wrong I was to think that boys grew up to men and wanted a real love story, not a sex story. How terribly wrong.
William had cheated on me a month before the Halloween party. He screwed around with other girls, tried to get into a friend’s pants, and was being suspiciously flirty with his own cousin, whom was my best friend. That’s Missouri for ya; guys wanting to get into the pants of their younger girl cousins, even their nieces or their nephews. It’s sick. I should’ve known he was a creep when I saw his deceiving sky blue eyes, his muscular body, his perfection. He was shorter than me, but I’m 5’9 and it’s hard to find guys taller than me here in Missouri.
He had wanted to talk to me. I was hopelessly drunk and stupid. I was so drunk, I had dropped a cigarette on my hip and watched it burn for a minute. I didn’t feel the pain, but I think I wanted it. I hated myself then, and still do every once in awhile. But doesn’t everybody?
He coaxed me into the bathroom. I had followed, even though I had another friend there telling me not to. I still loved Will though, despite everything. I still wanted to give him a second chance.
He took me into the bathroom, then he shut the door behind me. I don’t remember everything, but next thing I knew, he was kissing me, everywhere. Then he took off my clothes. At this point, I finally saw what he was trying to do. I told him stop, I begged him “Please, anything but that”. He tried anyway. He tried to force himself intercourse. I cried and I sobbed and I begged him to stop.
If my best friend’s sister hadn’t walked in, I would’ve been raped.
He stopped, realising that it was not a good environment to rape. He was such an idiot. With that many people around in a small house, he should’ve known.
At least he had the decency to clothe me afterwards. When I fell asleep that night, it didn’t hit home at what had happened. I passed out in my friends bed.
The next morning, I cried in the shower. I tried to scrub off the dirtiness and the filth. It was surely my fault, I had thought. It was surely something I had brought upon myself. I WAS wearing a skirt, that was long and beautiful, but I hiked up to my hip to give it a twist, and I was wearing a red corset. I was supposed to be Snow White, since I had black hair and pale skin.
I scrubbed and scrubbed, turning my skin the red of the devil. I cried harder still, knowing that I was tainted forever. I had tried to push him off, I told him no. What did I do wrong?
Months afterward, I got sick of being dirty. I became a recluse. I stayed away from people as much as possible. And then I planned on killing myself.
I had it all planned out. I was going to hang myself with a scarf, but if that didn’t work, I outlined my arteries and I would open my veins and bleed out in a hot bath or something. Before I could do any of this, as I had the scarf in my hand, read to hang myself and end my fucked up life, I noticed a paper on the ground. In a daze of insanity and depression, I picked it up and saw what it was.
Megan Meier’s story.
I don’t know of you know of Meghan. She was a girl from Missouri who killed herself from cyber bullying. She was from St. Charles and went to Fort Zumwalt middle school. She was beautiful, I thought she was pretty. She was bullied because she was ‘fat’ and ‘ugly’. She had been bullied before she killed herself, and when she died, it was a week before her 14th birthday.
On the side of the paper it had the suicide hotline. Not thinking, and nervous, I called and the man on the line got what school I came from.
Ironically, Tina Meier had came to our school and was talking about the suicide of her daughter the very next day. The principle pulled me out of the assembly and talked to me about suicide. The counselors helped me too. Then the female counsellor drove me home and told my mom what had happened. I didn’t want her to find out. I wanted to keep it a sect, I didn’t want to be considered weak and stupid. When I told my mom I was almost raped, she didn’t believe me.
What do you do when your own mother doesn’t believe you? What are you supposed to do? To this day, she still doesn’t believe me, I know she doesn’t. Even if she doesn’t though, I will always remember something from that year, just when I was a sophomore. It’s been two Halloweens since, and stil remember most of it. Some of it is blurred from my drunk, but I got most of everything.
I remember to never give up, no matter how down you are about yourself. I still have problems doing that, but I keep on mind that there are people who love me and so what if my mom doesn’t believe me? At least I know it happened. At least I know that I’m okay now, and that William Triplett is rotting away in prison now for a few years because of thieving. I hate him. I wish he could drive up one day, so that I could tell him how I feel. Tell him how I felt like killing myself and that I hope he fucking feels like a piece of shit for trying to rape a 16 year old girl. Tell him how many nights I’ve spent thinking of ending it all right then and there, I still feel that way, but I won’t do it because of the people who will be left behind. They will be victimised for something I have done, and I’m not that kind of person. I remember how helpless I felt, and how I quieted my crying as he tried to hurt me, because i gave up. I still cry. I’m crying as a type this even.
I hope he learns his lesson in that dirty prison cell. I hope he fucking feels guilty for everything he’s done and feels how I feel now: Dirty. Gross. Tainted. Disgusting. Think of any synonym for those and it’s exactly how I feel.
I still smell his disgusting body odor as he tried to take advantage of me. I will always remember.
And William Triplett, if you are reading this now, you deserve all of the shit you get and all of the pain and hurt you feel. I don’t feel an ounce of sympathy for you. I don’t hate the guy who molested me as a child for two years as much as I hate you right now. The odds of you reading this are none to zero, but I don’t care there’s always this chance that you’ll stumble across it nice you get out of prison. I hope you see it.
Rape is a crime of hatred, power, and control. It doesn’t matter if you are wearing the skankiest clothing ever or nothing at all, when you say “No” it means “NO!” You sick bastards who are raping women who aren’t lucky enough to be saved by an unlikely hero deserve every terrible thing you get. Even you sick women who are raping men deserve the worst things ever in your life. How dare you try to take advantage like that? HOW DARE YOU? What are you, God?! What are you, the very son/daughter of the holiest thing alive, and you think you can get whatever you want? FUCK YOU.
We are survivors, we will rise above out past. We will save ourselves and we will heal. We won’t be controlled by you dirty birds anymore. We will live and we will be what we want to be. We won’t be controlled by your sin anymore. We won’t be curled up in bed, holding ourselves, and wishing to die. We won’t be the number that you see in statistics about people who are raped/molested every year of every second. We’ll rise up and succeed as we watch you fall off your high horse.
We will rise up from the ashes and be reborn into a Phoenix.
I know there are people with bigger problems, but this is really bothering me.
Hereâ€™s a short description of me: Iâ€™m 16, average looking guy, average at sports, not a nerd, very smart, good person…this is me:
My parents think that I have a great life and a lot of friendsâ€¦but Iâ€™m just acting so they donâ€™t have to worry about me. My dad is the problem. He treats me like a kid and everything is my fault. If he gets mad at my sister, I must suffer too. I can see that almost everyone from my family and cousins see a huge failure when they look at me. My mom, grandfather, grandmother, and one cousin are only people that ever showed me love.
You ever feel like that your insides just exploded with emotion because you bottle up your feelings and just put the best “happy face” that you can put on ? Then go through school every week, seeing others be happy while you’re just standing there awkwardly, thinking how you want to be them and that you’re dying on inside. You even start to feel like a huge failure in every way possible, you can’t even look at yourself in the mirror anymore cause you hate what you see. That’s me.
At school, people are making fun of me and calling me freak, fool and I donâ€™t even know why ! Whatever I say, itâ€™s stupid or not funny and at the end Iâ€™m the guy that nobody likes. I’m not shy. I talk to people and to everyone at school (when there are just 2 of us), but when there is a group of people, Iâ€™m the one who doesnâ€™t belong there and they want me away. I sometimes slouch in school and it makes people approach me to ask me why I look so down, but knowing they wont understand, I just tell them I’m tired.
I have some friends but they are not “true” friends (they are in my life so I can just talk to someone). I get criticized and insulted by my “friends” all the time, even though they say they are joking, the jokes are really cruel. People also say I complain, when in truth I am just suggesting something or adding to a conversation by making a counter statement. I can’t get new friends or any girls to have interest me because no one wants to talk to a boring, lame, observant, loser who has no life and nothing interesting happening. When there’s a huge party, I’m not invited and when I ask why I wasn’t invited, they say “Sorry bro, we forgot”. They say that every time. But these friends are better than no friends, right ?
I had only 1 TRUE friend but even he left me. He was just like me, same personality, not so many friends, not so popular.. He got popular and started hanging out with other people. I started hating him. It’s like I was jealous of him because of the attention he was getting. I felt horrible about myself, because he got out of it, out of this “zone of lonelyness” and I didn’t. He started to behave the way others do. Now he treats me like everyone else…like I’m an idiot…it’s like we never were friends…I just lost my f***ing best friend so f*** it I guess then…
People are not bullyng me (physicly). Everybody is avoiding fights with me and that’s a good thing.
I never had a girlfriend. I have never been loved. I have never been hugged. Never. I have never been looked in the eye and told from the heart that I matter. Every girl I ever loved or liked ignored me. I know that there’s nothing wrong with not having a girlfriend at my age but all my “friends” have a girlfriend and it kinda makes me sad. When our little group goes in town to hang out, they all go with their girlfriends exept me. It’s really akward.
You may think that I think too much about others but I’m mostly thinking about myself like “Why is this happening to me?” or “Are others true? Am I really what they say I am?”…things like that.
I rarely smile and I’m more serious than ever. I’m also cold. I don’t care for anybody exept myself. It’s like emotions don’t exist in me anymore.
I’m into music and I quess that is the thing that keeps my mind away from all this crap at the moment (I’m just listening to music, not playing an instrument).
People tell me to be positive, but how can I be positive when s*** around me is negative ?
I don’t know how, why or when I ended up being in this position I’m in. I’m not trying to be someone else, I am myself. No one seems to know my struggle and I’m not planning to tell anyone ’cause I know they won’t undetstand.
I’m not suicidal.Â I’m not emo, I don’t do drugs, drink (ok, sometimes I drink, but I never got drunk), and I’m so good to other people and life is returning me THIS way…it’s just f***ed up….
I just want to get out of this crap. Help me maybe ?
I have been on medication (viibryd) for 6 weeks.Â doc says it will help.Â He also gave me clonopin for anxiety at work.Â I am 42 divorced, no kids, just a great dog who was thrown from a car window and i rescued him.Â I will not committ suicide and leave my dog.Â no one would care if i die, i come from a “traditional italian family” your not supposed to have depression, you are supposed to “snap out of it and smile” well i cant.Â and lord knows i’ve tried and tried and tried.Â I feel now that since i’ve been with this job almost 15 years i have to finish out tax season but i want to die every day, but as i said, i wont leave my dog and i havent figured out a way to end his life without hurting him, he is old and suffering with some ailments so i would be giving him “life” again.Â I have written out my “letters” explaining to “everyone” not to be one of those “suicide suriviors” who cant go on.Â MY parents dont give a crap – dad only cares about the money i give him and i think my mom cares a bit more but her loyalty is to her husband and it always will.Â they will probably be more upset about how to tell everyone i’m dead – because i shouldnt “shame” the family name.Â My 2 brothers dont care, they will just hope my parents dont ask them for money to pay for a funeral.Â I have decided exactly how i’ll do it – maybe pills, but my family doesnt give a shit and this job is what is really getting to me.Â a boss who constantly makes me feel bad so he can make his kids who basically do nothing all day look good.Â i have talked and talked and talked to doctors, etc. their advice is to find another jobÂ well hello im in NY jobs hard to come by (just like everywhere else), but if the meds do help more, maybe i will survive till the 15 then resign and get another job.Â i just wonder what there really is to live for.Â i have a sick cousin, 40 with huntington’s disease – i see him weekly and they have just put a feeding tube in him – there is no cure the disease is horrible, how could i end my life when he’s fighting to live every day….. thanks everyone for listening.Â However, every day i feel more and more like everyone would be happy if i wasnt around anymore.Â i used to be “happy” now i’m so sad i cant stop crying…. so much more to write but this was my first post.Â I wish you all strength and love and whatever will help you escape the pain we are all suffering.
My Names Jade And This is My Story â€¦…..Well , it all started when I was in 1st grade……yeah , early right? I was being bullied everyday , not like calling me names when they walk by , 12 boys everyday at recess , pushed me on the ground and kicked me and hit me and threw things at me â€¦…i tried telling teachers , and they thought I was faking , my own cousin tried stopping it â€¦.she would grab a teacher , and they didnâ€™t care either , I brought my mom and my mom even saw the boys kick me and beat me up , she ran towards me after they were done , she didnâ€™t have time to stop them…..i was covered in blood , and crying my mom ran me into the nurse and while the nurse cleaned me up , my mom started yelling about the school system to the principal and she said â€œmy 6 year old daughter will not be at a school were she is bullied every day , shes moving , so she wont be here , todayâ€™s her last day.â€ and then we moved to a different city . I know …new city , new friends , new teachers , and new life…..nope…i felt different at my new school , I didnâ€™t really have any friends , so my mom moved me to a different school in the same city before. I did like this school but I had no friends â€¦.until I met this boy named Tomas 🙂 I had the biggest crush on tom 🙂 I would sit at home and imagine what would happen if me and tom got married , you know planning my future fairy tail ending . Well I started getting in trouble in my class’s , just by talking to tom during class , I would get in trouble blah blah whatever , I didnt care unless I had my best friend/ crush………then came second grade……my mom was pregnant with my little brother mason…..since we lived in an apartment at the time , we had to move…again. So I had to leave my only friend ._. and go to a new school , this time I liked this school 🙂 I had a lot of friends, the most amazing friends I could ever had , I forgot about tom , and had a new crush ,yeah 3rd grade was like my favorite year, but came fourth grade , I didnâ€™t like my teacher….so I would get in trouble all the time just to get out of my class…..and the education sucked , my spelling words where like , go . Stop . Cat . Dog â€¦…really annoying ,so I was in gifted and talented. And I had to move again. Our house had rats and raccoons , so we moved to another school closer to my new house……this school I didnâ€™t care for but I forgot my old friends and made new friends and actually found my best friend Morgan there. I liked fourth grade I had friends in my class , then came 5th grade…..i hated 5th grade , I had no emotion at all , I would come to school and just sit there through the class……my best friend Morgan was in a different class , so I had the worst year evarrrrrrrrr!!!! then I went to middle school , I was really happy because I made LOTS of friends and got to see Morgan a lot , that was the first time ive ever had alottt of friends then I ever needed , people I didnt know even knew me….u could say I was popular , but the really popular girls were bitches and sluts….but everyone was sooo nice to me , the called me funny and skinny and beautiful…..ive never been complimented like that , my family is really the only people who compliment me……i didnt have nice clothes , always too big , I grew into those clothes I weighed 145 lbs…….yeah I know fat………the bitches and sluts called me names but I didnt care, I made even more best friends Michaela , Camryn , Isela , And Lucy 🙂 they are my ride or dies…..than at the end of 6th grade my best friend Morgan moved ._. I Became more vulnerable because more mean girls moved to my school , and I started getting bullied again …i found I way out of it â€¦..volleyball and dance and Cheer Was My Life so I stuck to that for a year until 7th grade…..beginning of 7th grade , one of the bullies was picking on my friends…….so I stuck up for her , I knew what being bullied feels like….not good …so then the next day I was at volleyball practice and I didnt feel good so I was packing up , the bullies walked up to me , the bully was trying to fight me , I told her â€œ I dont want to fight , my rides here.â€ …that didnt stop her….she closed the door to the locker room , everyone was getting out cameras…….i knew what was happening …she got in my face and yelled â€œhit me.â€ â€¦ I simply said â€œim not going to hit you.â€….so she slapped my arm and laughed , I started laughing, then she looked at me and started to punch my arms , then she got close to my neck…thats when I hit back……i pushed her on the ground and she got back up I pulled her hair out and hit her in the eye…she started bleeding on me and she tried to take of my shirt.. so I rammed her into the wall while I was hitting her in the stomach and her face…….and then my volleyball coach came in and broke us up……everyone walked away with that video on their phones and ipods…i started crying…..she brought us to the office and she sat us down and the first thing she said was â€œ both of u are kicked of the team.â€ â€¦..i immediately was devastated… volleyball is my life….so when I got home , I fell asleep…..that was my first sign of depression……and I went to school two days later â€¦.everyone was saying â€œjade got her ass beat.â€ I went to the bathroom and cried …i didnt eat lunch that day….didnt talk to anyone…….when I got home I started to cry and sleep and had thoughts of suicide…..i felt like giving up……but I stayed strong and lived on with life….then my uncle died…….my true family………i felt like not being here again…i wanted my uncle…….no , I needed him â€¦..thats when I started cutting……and the girl I got in a fight with found out……..she couldnt stop she called me â€œ emo , fatass , lesbian , retarded …â€ all the worst names…i went home and cutt on my stomach , noone would see them because I was fat â€¦…i weighed 160……i hated myself â€¦..i thought â€œ you dumbass , u knew this would happen , it always does , you have noone to love you , not even your own mom , she loves your brother more than you , hes perfect , hes the cutest thing alive , why even try fat ass…..noone cares anyways….â€ I was about to kill myself , like anyone cared â€¦….i had the pills and note ready and all I opened the cap and then…….i got a phone call….it was my dad……i answered it , he said he didnt feel right , he said he thought something was wrong so he wanted to see if I was okay…..he talked to me for and hour and told me he loved me….thatâ€™s when I said to myself â€œ what are u doing , your dad loves u , your his only child …what would happen to him if u were dead? Don t …do…itâ€ so I put up the pills and tore and burned the note â€¦…i wasnâ€™t eating right though……i lost 30 pounds……my doctor made me re-gain the weight tho , and I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. I am healthy now …my friends help me with that and my mom does too……..they make sure im happy and living life to its fullest….i am happy to say that its the end of 7th grade and im healthy and havent cut in 3 months , all because I realized …people actually love me…. so why give up? â€¦…if you are still reading this and thinking about giving up…dont , people do love u â€¦…….You May Not know me? But…i love you , and I care about you……you are a great person and you have a wonderful life….this is just my story….whats yours?
I wish i could’ve been my cousin, he’s free now. I know for a fact that if i did it, my father would just pull a poor me act, he doesn’t care about me, he wishes i was never born, just like my mother. i feel like being dead would be better than these fucked up fetishes and addictions i have. couldnt have i died from my overdose?