I remember spending hours in my bathroom cutting and feeling depressed and worthless. I remember the sad, dull and lifeless feeling I got when I cut. The blood would drip down my arm into the water below. It didn't feel good, but it didn't hurt as bad as the pain of my life did, so I continued. It was a few months later I met my best and only friend Christiana. She is the same girl who told me to make a wattpad account since I like reading and writing so much. Anyways, she stood up for me when people bullied me, and we became friends. She helped me get my life back on track somewhat, but I was still cutting, and listening to my parents argue and hit each other, and most of the time hit me and my sister.
When I turned 13 I discovered that my blood type was really rare, o-, and that alot of people needed it. I tried to sign up to donate blood to the American Red Cross, but I became disappointed when I discovered that in my state, I had to be at least 15 before I could do it, and I would need my parents written permission first. I cut myself less often, realizing that someone somewhere could use the blood that was going down the drain or staying on my razor. A few months later, my parents started fighting worse. They would literally end up punching each other. My mother would scream from the blows my father was handing to her, and sometimes my father would yell when my mother slap or scratched him. I stayed in my room, feeling worthless and scared. At school, things were getting worse. The bullies were starting to come back, mostly teasing me because of my sister being a prostitute, or me being OCD. Christiana would stand up for me and chew them out, which usually shut them up. When I went home, I would relieve my stress by writing and reading books. I enjoyed it alot and it was fun to be creative and pretend everything was normal.
When I turned 14, I saw less and less of my 13 year old sister. She was out on the streets more and more, and I never knew where she was going. One day, I decided to follow her. She stopped on a weird street. Everything was dark and dingy and she was talking to random guys and girls in cars. I grabbed her arm and dragged her home. I wasn't able to stop her from prostituting, but that night, she wasn't going to get some disease.
When I turned 15, (the age I am now), I started donating blood. I felt that I finally had a purpose, and it felt good. I still donate blood. My parents still fight and hit me, I'm still OCD, my sister still prostitutes, I still deal with bullies, I still have my friend Christiana, but I didn't cut myself anymore. I wrote my feelings and portrayed them in my books and stories. So, this is my life story so far, I hope I get to add more and I hope it's good things to add.
Bye! Thanks for reading! =)
