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Beginning my life wasn’t always easy. I was a baby, but everything seemed to difficult. As I began to grow up I would get bullied at school, at church, in the grocery stores, in my own house, my mother never really knew how I felt, my father was always working, and my older siblings could care less how I felt. I had a younger brother but... he was like 3 years old, he didn’t understand what was happening.
I had a journal where I wrote everything that was going on... it was the only way I truly felt like I was escaping from the world and the negativity that came with it.
One day I snapped and I couldn’t take it anymore... when we were coming back from recess I shoved everyone in front of me and I ran straight to the counselor's office. I didn’t know what I was going to say or how I was going to say it but I knew I had to say SOMETHING.
When I walked in there she took one look at me, didn’t say a word, looked up, and came my way to hug me... before I could even speak she knew EXACTLY why I was there!
I let myself fall to the floor and I cried like I’ve never cried before... all I remember saying was “I’m done... I can’t do this. I was to kill myself.” As soon as those words left my mouth my week changed completely.
My parents quickly arrived, police officers, the ambulance showed up, kids from different classes, teachers were aware, and the principal was notified.
As I began to explain to my parents what exactly was going on and why I was feeling this way, my mother began to cry and my dad comforted me. They had no idea I was feeling that way, they were clueless at how slowly I was dying on the inside.
That same night I slept with my parents because I wasn’t allowed to be on my own for too long..
And all I was able to think was, “They know how you feel.. they’ll know why you did it.. it’s now or never.” So I did. I stood up, went to the kitchen and took the sharpest knife I could find... with tears filling my eyes I ran back to my parents' room and gave them each a kiss on the forehead and I ran back to the restroom.
With the knife pointing at my chest and the blood from my recent cuts covering me up I looked down and realized what I had become. This wasn’t me... I looked at every single scar. From the ones on my legs to the ones on my arms, I lifted up my shirt and saw my stomach dripping in blood due to the cuts I had down that same morning.
I began to cry once more... I started to think of all the times I was able to spend with my family and without thinking I did it... I lowered the knife on the my wrist and the last thing I remember was screaming with regret as I saw the blood began to gush out of my wrist.
I closed my eyes and said, “It’s done, there’s no going back.”
It felt like an eternity until I was awaken by my mother's screams and prayers... all she asked for was for me to be okay, for God to take her and not me... I could hear my dad softly praying in the corner and my brothers and sisters were trying very hard to keep in the tears that were threatening to roll down their cheeks ..
When I opened my eyes I had needles sticking in me from all sorts of places, bags of blood roamed over me like birds and the smell of a hospital filled my body.
The only thing I was able to say was “I’m sorry.” My mother took my apology as she gently squeezed my hand and kissed my forehead trying to hold everything back.
A couple weeks later I was put into a mental hospital, yeah... crazy huh?
But that’s something I don’t like thinking about because it’s a place where I know I don’t belong.