Throughout elementary school and halfway through middle school and I know there are still people talking shit about me now in high school.
When you're a kid everything matters, you care about everything and you find everything interesting, new and beautiful. At least I did. And it was my best friend who started bullying me. Soon after half of my class joined.. well.. all of my class joined. Not all of them said mean things or did mean things though. Well.. sometimes they did make remarks of whatever but mostly they just kept away. When they went past me, they did it from as far as they could. Yes they didn't exactly say mean things but they never talked to me either. So I spend most of my school years in class, sitting quietly. And it's not that I didn't tell the teacher.. it's not that she didn't stick with the bullies, rather than stand up for me. It's about me. I was the wrong. And I still am.
Every day I just tried to get through the school day, not that home was better - no. At home I was abused physically by my younger brother. Sounds weird - right? Well.. I was taught that you do not hit those younger than you and I really stuck by it. I was kicked, scratched, pulled from the hair, hit with heavy things (well.. as heavy as he could lift). And did my mom care? Not really. I cried for help, literally cried, she only came in half an hour, when everything had ended and shook us both by the hair. Cause it was also my fault. It was my fault he beat me. He also broke my things, tore up my schoolwork. He made home living hell.. as if school wasn't bad enough. He still abuses me sometimes.
I suppose I've suffered from depression since I was about 9-10. Then I just stopped going to school, because I couldn't face everyone there and I also absolutely hate that teacher ever since. My mom and dad were begging me to go to school every morning, trying to figure out why I wouldn't go. Trying to get me to talk to them - but why should I, it's not as if they cared earlier. I barely talked back then. I practically never opened my mouth. Only to eat food - and so my unhealthy relationship with food began. Food was practically my only friend. I ate whenever I was sad, happy, bored whatever. I constantly ate.
Back then was also when i "discovered" self-harm, cutting. I don't remember how I discovered it, but I remember I wasn't sure about what I was doing. The first cuts were shallow and didn't leave a scar. Now I know, that many people just do not understand why people cut. Well - I'm happy for you. Because you've obviously never cut and you shouldn't either. Once you start you can't really stop. It's a habit, it almost becomes your life. You constantly think about how to do it and afterwards how to hide it. I never told anyone until I was 15 or so. And I hate that the first response was "Why?".
I´ve managed to take a break from it from time to time. I always seem to relapse, so never for too long.
So now - I.... am depressed, am a cutter, have an unhealthy relationship with food, I'm lonely, antisocial, shy, never am I outgoing, can't remember the last time I was happy. I'm fat, ugly, uncomfortable with myself, I hate myself, am ashamed of myself, I'm stupid, a freak. I'm stressed out, tired and I want to die. But I can't. I won't. And I want to win this what seems like an eternal fight. Sometimes I feel weak and don't think I can though......... Most of the times...........
My dead azalea