That is this story. This is a story of someone who has been falling for years and years, someone who has given up, someone who can’t see the light anymore. This is the story of someone you probably know. This is the story of a broken teenager. This is just Part One of Four in this series that will continue throughout time.
He began his fall when he was ten when his mom tore him from his home and flung him into the other side of reality, where people fucked for drug money and abandoned their lives. For six months, the last ten years of his seemingly great life collapsed and was rebuilt with an image of drugs and blood. In the last month of his torment, he tried to kill himself with a pistol, but as it turned out, it was empty. This event led to him being left at his dad’s house while his sister stayed with his mom. It was just them, alone in a townhouse. He hadn’t had a proper shower for the last six months and he was scarred for the rest of his life.
His dad told him it was just them, and they had to make use of what they had. When he went to school, he was constantly tormented because of his smell and his paranoia for everyone. They didn’t understand what had happened to him, and they didn’t understand the crimson red cuts on his arms.
They understood how to make fun of him, though.
They understood how to become blind to someone’s pain.
They understood how to create a monster.
When he was twelve, he made another, yet smaller, attempt on his life. He tried to slit his throat, but he was just twelve, so he used a pair of scissors. He failed, and nobody found out. His sister returned, and they were a family without a mother. A broken family, and he was torn. Both him and his sister were like brainwashed soldiers: unable to tell between truth and lie, and they believed the lies their mother ingrained in their mind like cattle.
Everyone in his family forgot his thirteenth birthday.
When he was thirteen, he once again attempted to kill himself. This time, it was because of the people around him. The people who tore him apart, the people who decided that it was best to make fun of him, the people who broke his heart with a fucking sledgehammer, drove him to it. He tried to stab himself, but he was, unfortunately, saved before he died, and he went back to school the following Monday, acting as if nothing happened.
The most recent of this was in October of 2018, when he cut for the first time in an entire year. Four streaks down his left arm. He did it again in December, when he added two more. And only one person noticed.
And, if it was so hard to realize, this entire four part series is about me, so don’t ask me ‘is this about you?’ YES, it’s about me, and don’t tell a counselor!