“I am tired of hiding it’s time to come out”
Most people say “you don’t realize how much anda cinta someone until they are gone” atau “how important life really is until anda have gone too far”. I know this sounds like a bad cliché but I have experienced both. Last tahun my great grandmother Julia died, I began to think right then and there why me? Is there a god? I started to have detik thought about my life. A solid 4.0 student, reads all hari and has no friends. I hated life so I began to do the unthinkable I became solitude in my own way, started to have anger strikes, and began to drink, worst of all self harm. Pain was my only friend and crying wasn’t an option. To get to know me, who I really am as a person and how I have changed. I’ll have to tell anda my emotional and physical journey I went through.
It was grayish blue the color of a dead corpse outside the air was cold and damp feeling like an eternal doom making the fog look so thick anda could use a butterknief to cut through it. I always walked oleh myself unless I ran into someone I had for class (which was somewhat often). My hands were freezing and my nose was probably bright red oh god I probably looked like the red nose reindeer, was all I could think (at the moment). The hari dragged on and the teachers talked; it was a normal day. oleh the end of the hari I walked my butt halaman awal as slowly as I could, I imagined I was a sloth all fury and lazy, make it halaman awal in time for dinner. I could feel something in the air the uneasiness like something bad was coming. I understood my great grandma was old and that now was the third atau fourth time in the hospital so I had no worries at all. She would be fine in that hell hole they call a hospital. I mean its dim like the night and it smells of that horrible hospital bedding, the kind made me want to run for the hills. The place was aweful no doubt about it, it gave me the creeps like death was covering ever corner, ekk I can’t even explain how much I hate the place. I walked into my house greeted oleh the smell of potatoes filling my nostrils, calling me to them mmmmm homemade I assumed. The hari had gone oleh normal dragging endless hours oleh until my dad; lazily watching televisi got the call. She died. Cries to make a river came upon us; the theory of god existing left me. She was gone and I didn’t get to say goodbye, I didn’t get to know her, she didn’t get to know me!
That is when I lost it I hated the crying worst of all I hated life. A woman I never got to know personally, after so many years was snatched from me. I remembered going to her house once atau twice the smell of old always in the air like a Pandora’s Box ready to open. I remembered few times we talked my Spanish choppy and her accent tough. I couldn’t stand it, the funeral was even worse. Everyone was crying my abuela Grace sobbing for her loss, dressed in black with choppy hair (black as well). “I hated it I refuse to cry!” I shouted in my head, instead I was angry. I had never seen a grown man cry before, but my dad cried, eyes red like blisters looking straight ahead at the endless shock and grief of others. I just stared for a while, and then slowly I got up. Walking over to the casket where her body lay I just stared. She looked like a worn out doll. Her face was so calm like she was sleeping at peace (I guess). I touched her face to much cover-up the people put o her, and yet she didn’t feel the same, she felt leathery like she wasn’t real anymore. She had a white dress on I think a wedding dress the one she got married in. she was peaceful and I wondered can she see me now looking at her?. I wondered what she saw and how she felt when she died. We left shortly, quiet no sound and an endless monotone as we ventured home. No god anymore, no hell, no life. “I hate the world!” “What did I do?” “I hate you, I hate anda I hate you!” Thoughts of how to die came to my head, hate, fury, hurt, emotions! I went halaman awal and went to my parents’ bathroom. I grabbed the razor blade so shiny so sleek and I put it to my arm with one last thought a tears came to my eyes. I slashed my arm, away from veins and watched the blood drip rubies in the sink. I did it lebih and more, it didn’t hurt the razor was dripping and my arm was worse… I stopped. I looked at my arm covered with marks and I smiled.
I smiled so much I began to laugh. Laughter for a crazy person, a person of pain and hurt I laughed. Days went oleh and I did it lebih and lebih my arm so sore to the touch I covered them up. I was ashamed and yet amused, I hated me I hate life there was no god and he couldn’t help me anyways. I then began to drink. Cold, hot api running down my throat the feeling of lightness and nothingness. I enjoyed it and I laughed more, but I was never happy. Bottles disappeared and I did to, no one listened to me and I didn’t care if they didn’t anymore. Anger rose with ever passing hari and I knew any menit now I would break. Grades that where A’s became C-‘s, and school became my enemy. So much drama, why? People hated me and I came to think that maybe they were right. I was just a sad emo girl who needed to get herself together. Did they think that helped? NO! It made me worse, I felt miserable and eventually disgusted with myself. I continued to cut I continued to drink, I kept it all to myself and sealed all my emotions. No one understood me and I started to see I didn’t know myself either.
Days, weeks, months all passed by. My life was nothingness and I feared no one loved me. Am I really sick? I always thought, and yet I didn’t was peoples pity and I continued. Life sucked and so I turned on my computer and came to a site. Since I read sometimes in my down days I decided what would it hurt? And there I met a woman named _. _ a person not even in _ but in _ cared. I considered her my savior, my angel, my best friend. I talked to her for hours in that little box chat room, I babbled and babbled on and on. I told her about me, not just the outside me but the real me. My stories, my drama and my life. She listened while hours dragged on about why I cut and how I was coming to the brink of eternal damnation. She understood and helped me make my first step, like a toddler learning to walk still wobbly unsure to let go atau not. I threw away my razors, pretty shiny toys, and I let my arm heal. I stopped drinking and began to make something of my life again. I left them to sit in the cold refrigerator not wanting to touch them again and just walked away. She told me how to control my anger, which was listening to music, atau to hit something, yell atau anything. She told me when I am sad think of something else anything to get my mind off self harm. I had potential she berkata and I believe her, I do. She made me feel loved like she actually cared for me like another mom. When she yelled atau got mad I felt loved I knew she cared. I felt worthy. I might hate the world but now she gave me reasons to live. Cutting was my addiction, my heroin the ultimate high, drinking was my painkiller to make me numb. I finally could feel again the numbness wearing off and I owe it all to her. She liked to say that she didn’t help that I did it myself, but I beg to differ to me I knew she helped me overall.
Most people say “you don’t realize how much anda cinta someone until they are gone” atau “how important life really is until anda have gone too far”. I know this sounds like a bad cliché but I have experienced both. Last tahun my great grandmother Julia died, I began to think right then and there why me? Is there a god? I started to have detik thought about my life. A solid 4.0 student, reads all hari and has no friends. I hated life so I began to do the unthinkable I became solitude in my own way, started to have anger strikes, and began to drink, worst of all self harm. Pain was my only friend and crying wasn’t an option. To get to know me, who I really am as a person and how I have changed. I’ll have to tell anda my emotional and physical journey I went through.
It was grayish blue the color of a dead corpse outside the air was cold and damp feeling like an eternal doom making the fog look so thick anda could use a butterknief to cut through it. I always walked oleh myself unless I ran into someone I had for class (which was somewhat often). My hands were freezing and my nose was probably bright red oh god I probably looked like the red nose reindeer, was all I could think (at the moment). The hari dragged on and the teachers talked; it was a normal day. oleh the end of the hari I walked my butt halaman awal as slowly as I could, I imagined I was a sloth all fury and lazy, make it halaman awal in time for dinner. I could feel something in the air the uneasiness like something bad was coming. I understood my great grandma was old and that now was the third atau fourth time in the hospital so I had no worries at all. She would be fine in that hell hole they call a hospital. I mean its dim like the night and it smells of that horrible hospital bedding, the kind made me want to run for the hills. The place was aweful no doubt about it, it gave me the creeps like death was covering ever corner, ekk I can’t even explain how much I hate the place. I walked into my house greeted oleh the smell of potatoes filling my nostrils, calling me to them mmmmm homemade I assumed. The hari had gone oleh normal dragging endless hours oleh until my dad; lazily watching televisi got the call. She died. Cries to make a river came upon us; the theory of god existing left me. She was gone and I didn’t get to say goodbye, I didn’t get to know her, she didn’t get to know me!
That is when I lost it I hated the crying worst of all I hated life. A woman I never got to know personally, after so many years was snatched from me. I remembered going to her house once atau twice the smell of old always in the air like a Pandora’s Box ready to open. I remembered few times we talked my Spanish choppy and her accent tough. I couldn’t stand it, the funeral was even worse. Everyone was crying my abuela Grace sobbing for her loss, dressed in black with choppy hair (black as well). “I hated it I refuse to cry!” I shouted in my head, instead I was angry. I had never seen a grown man cry before, but my dad cried, eyes red like blisters looking straight ahead at the endless shock and grief of others. I just stared for a while, and then slowly I got up. Walking over to the casket where her body lay I just stared. She looked like a worn out doll. Her face was so calm like she was sleeping at peace (I guess). I touched her face to much cover-up the people put o her, and yet she didn’t feel the same, she felt leathery like she wasn’t real anymore. She had a white dress on I think a wedding dress the one she got married in. she was peaceful and I wondered can she see me now looking at her?. I wondered what she saw and how she felt when she died. We left shortly, quiet no sound and an endless monotone as we ventured home. No god anymore, no hell, no life. “I hate the world!” “What did I do?” “I hate you, I hate anda I hate you!” Thoughts of how to die came to my head, hate, fury, hurt, emotions! I went halaman awal and went to my parents’ bathroom. I grabbed the razor blade so shiny so sleek and I put it to my arm with one last thought a tears came to my eyes. I slashed my arm, away from veins and watched the blood drip rubies in the sink. I did it lebih and more, it didn’t hurt the razor was dripping and my arm was worse… I stopped. I looked at my arm covered with marks and I smiled.
I smiled so much I began to laugh. Laughter for a crazy person, a person of pain and hurt I laughed. Days went oleh and I did it lebih and lebih my arm so sore to the touch I covered them up. I was ashamed and yet amused, I hated me I hate life there was no god and he couldn’t help me anyways. I then began to drink. Cold, hot api running down my throat the feeling of lightness and nothingness. I enjoyed it and I laughed more, but I was never happy. Bottles disappeared and I did to, no one listened to me and I didn’t care if they didn’t anymore. Anger rose with ever passing hari and I knew any menit now I would break. Grades that where A’s became C-‘s, and school became my enemy. So much drama, why? People hated me and I came to think that maybe they were right. I was just a sad emo girl who needed to get herself together. Did they think that helped? NO! It made me worse, I felt miserable and eventually disgusted with myself. I continued to cut I continued to drink, I kept it all to myself and sealed all my emotions. No one understood me and I started to see I didn’t know myself either.
Days, weeks, months all passed by. My life was nothingness and I feared no one loved me. Am I really sick? I always thought, and yet I didn’t was peoples pity and I continued. Life sucked and so I turned on my computer and came to a site. Since I read sometimes in my down days I decided what would it hurt? And there I met a woman named _. _ a person not even in _ but in _ cared. I considered her my savior, my angel, my best friend. I talked to her for hours in that little box chat room, I babbled and babbled on and on. I told her about me, not just the outside me but the real me. My stories, my drama and my life. She listened while hours dragged on about why I cut and how I was coming to the brink of eternal damnation. She understood and helped me make my first step, like a toddler learning to walk still wobbly unsure to let go atau not. I threw away my razors, pretty shiny toys, and I let my arm heal. I stopped drinking and began to make something of my life again. I left them to sit in the cold refrigerator not wanting to touch them again and just walked away. She told me how to control my anger, which was listening to music, atau to hit something, yell atau anything. She told me when I am sad think of something else anything to get my mind off self harm. I had potential she berkata and I believe her, I do. She made me feel loved like she actually cared for me like another mom. When she yelled atau got mad I felt loved I knew she cared. I felt worthy. I might hate the world but now she gave me reasons to live. Cutting was my addiction, my heroin the ultimate high, drinking was my painkiller to make me numb. I finally could feel again the numbness wearing off and I owe it all to her. She liked to say that she didn’t help that I did it myself, but I beg to differ to me I knew she helped me overall.