I’m both scared and ready for death to come. My parents usually get angry at each other (my dad cheats on my mom, drinks and lies) and everything is inflicted on me, i have bruises on my back and face. Not only that, people at school pick on me for not wearing designer clothing or showing off at slutty parties, then one day at school a random guy just came up to me and wanted to punch me in the face. because of all that i wanted to die…
I took some razors and started cutting at my left wrist, blood was spilling everywhere and my parents started to beat me because of what i had done.
My parents never paid attention to me. ( in my country, families are built upon a social hierarchy, and my family was the second at the top and one slip up could mean the social doom to my family, even with my condition, my mental illness, they couldnt get me to any help because they were too afraid of their social status).
I then became addicted to painkillers and morphine, nobody really found out. I only told one friend. Everything went downhill when my dad started to beat me. Nobody noticed until my english teacher (favourite teacher) saw something different, he went to talk to me after school and scheduled an appointment with me.
He wanted to know what was happening but i lied throughout the whole thing. You see, when you spend most of your life in pain, since you were eight lying about what really goes on in your family and your dark past, you become an excellent liar. Always able to change your expression and words.Somehow, my teacher didn’t buy what i said.
About three months later, I was short of morphine, i went manic. I was completely insane, my parents wouldn’t let me leave the house. Apparently my body was used to the daily consumption of painkillers. My parents did NOTHING! it angered me to the point where i literally broke my ankle just to get some morphine to ease the pain. I told the doctor that I do a lot of walking on a daily basis in order to get a little bit more of morphine.
As soon as i got home, i shoved most of the painkiller into my mouth. I didn’t know what I was thinking. I nearly got an overdose, my parents didn’t get me to a hospital, i nearly died. I threw up in the sink and passed out. I woke up and my parents were on front of me and literally beat me to a bloody pulp!
i cut again.
About a month later my school arranged a trip to switzerland for a few students, I applied, and I actually got accepted. I was finally alone, I was at a camp, in the alps, fresh air and no morphine.
I thought this was a time to start over, maybe get over my addiction. Then there was a guy in my school that also came along with the group, he was a grade older than me. I had a crush on him too. Turns out a few days later he asked me out on a date (my parents never knew) we fell in love a month later. I was afraid that I would die and leave all this life behind.
my parents got into other fights, more pain and abuse was inflicted on me.
My morphine addiction came back and then i got an eating disorder. I started gaining weight. My parents still didn’t care. I’m still in love.
I want to die because of my parents and I don’t want o die because I think I can make it to 18.
Now I am holding a knife on my left wrist on an old scar, afraid of retracing the old scar with blood, but also wanting to slit my whole wrist off…