Blog Post #2

         I remember it like it was yesterday. I was 12 years old in my second to last year of middle school and things just seemed to be continuously taking a turn for the worst. At the time, I was having trouble keeping my grades up because I was simply upset all the time for no reason. My parents really didn't take my constant depression seriously. They just yelled at me saying things like " You're going to end up in Washington High School with all the other failures" and " You'll never get into college, what the hell is wrong with you!?" On top of being put down at home, my school life was no better.
         There was a guy at school named Kai. I felt like things were finally looking up for me when he asked out... that was until a week later he made out with Bianca, the girl I had thought was my best friend. I thought that I was done with guys at that point, until I met Z. He was funny and smart and had a face to match, but as the old saying goes, looks can be deceiving. Z and I eventually started dating and things were going great until I found out he was also dating 3 other girls on top of me and when I went to break things off, he did things to me that scar me to this day and have caused me hate my own body. Between this and school, I didn't know what to think. I was clearly alive but not really living.
         The hardest part for me was that no one saw or knew what he did, because I was afraid to speak to anyone because I feared negative judgement. A few weeks had gone by and seeing him around school, caused the graphic memories to constant play back in my mind like a song on repeat. Day by day it had eaten me alive to the point where I found no joy in living. I thought that maybe if I told someone, I would feel better and the nightmare would deplete, so now I faced a choice, do I tell someone about what had happened or try to end things on my own? I came to the conclusion that I wished not to worry people with my own problems and with that, I then took a pair of scissors to my right on and ran it up and down my arm pressing as hard as I could as tears fell stinging every open wound I had made.