How I Became This Way.

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I have depression and anxiety. I also have a mild case of insomnia, and bulimia also. I hate myself and i can't even change it. I have many other things wrong with me also. I have a problem with my back and i might need surgery, my liver doesn't work so i can't drink. Ever, and all my mental health issues so alot of the time i wonder if it's even worth me getting up and going to school or doing anything because it's not gonna help me in the future is it?

I have no future.

The first thing i 'developed' was anxiety and i first experienced it when i thought that my mum had cancer and i was really stressed but also at this time i had exam week coming up and i found out about my friend.

My mum didn't have cancer and it was just a false alarm but i was still so scared. The anxiety didn't leave and i guess that's because the 2 biggest problems didn't.

i was still there, the same way i always was.

Fat.

Ugly.

Pathetic.

But my other problem was my old bestfriend. We stopped talking for quite a while and then i decided to message her because she was my bestfriend at one stage and we did everything together and well i missed her but when we started talking more and she started trusting me again what i found out shocked me. she had attempted suicide 22 times.

Not just once.

22 times.

It's only that her mum stopped her or she didn't take enough pills or she got caught in the act. And it hit me. All this time that i hadn't been talking to her over probably some stupid peddy fight and because she went to a different school, all that time she had been going through this and i wasn't there for her. It broke my heart ok i felt so guilty for not being there. Not holding her hand as she took the hardest steps in her life.

She cut regularly and still wanted to die. At this point in time i didn't understand. I only had anxiety nothing more. She on the other hand had both but she had depression the worst.

I tried to get her to explain and she always told me that she couldn't and now i understand why. You just can't explain in because it's just not 1 thing to explain it's a whole web of things and the things just don't seem to end. One thing is connected to another and it doesn't stop.

I felt like crying, i felt like breaking down. It was one one the first times that i got the urge to cut.

I fought it, really hard. And i would of suceeded. My first cut was an accident and i mean it was a literal accident. 

I was in the shower, shaving my arms (and yes i have to shave my arms because i don't feel comfortable with myself) and the blade popped out at cut my wrist at first i looked in shock, it was a huge cut but then i realised how nice it felt and realised that it's the most relaxed i've felt in ages.

I got out of the shower putting pressure on the cut to control the bleeding and make sure nobody could see me then i went into my room got into my pyjamas and searched for something sharp. I found an old badge, an opened it putting the pointy end on my wrist and sat on my bed and lightly scrathed the surface of my skin.

I was too scared that somebody was gonna walk in or notice the cuts, so i went and said goodnight to my parents, closed my door and turned to light off so they thought i was sleeping, little did they know that my arm had cuts and scratches all over the wrist and it felt amazing.

I wrapped my arm up tightly in toilet paper and put pressure on it to stop the bleeding and fell into dreamless sleep, and in the moment i realised that, that was one of the best nights sleep that i'd had in ages. And it was all becase of me getting my emotions out in what peeople would assume to be one of the worst ways but i would say the best.

And from that day i've had to control my urge to cut every single second an it kills me. I feel amazing whilst cutting but so guilty after. I also feel scared, what if someone saw the cuts? The scars? I've never actually told anyone that i cut and i don't know if i should.

I don't trust anyone and i think i need to keep it that way. I can't have it spread that i cut, i can't be labelled emo. My label is happy remember, as untrue as that is. I need to keep my label as happy so nobody ever suspects me as the sad girl who crys at night and cuts herself to feel relief..

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