Hey.. My name is Tori.. Most of you don't know much about me, or about my past. The things i've done, the things i regret... The things i've learned from... It's all alot for some to handle. I write some books, i love to draw, i'm addicted to music. But those are just facts... My story tells alot more..
Age 5, Kindergarten. My mother was never really happy with my family. My father was barely home, always out with friends. My mother took care of me and said that i never did anything right. Some nights sent to my room without dinner, other nights hit with a belt... My father barely knew any of this went on because he was never home.. This continued for months untill my dad found out and started somming home more often. Things started to get better but.. I still never had any friends at school.. I felt alone, unliked, different...
Age 6, 1st grade. The year passed by in a blur. I had made a few friends, but still didn't feel wanted. At home I didn't feel safe. I felt as if everything i did was wrong. Physical pain never happened at school, but kids just didn't like me. My sister was born, thus my mom paying more attention to her than to me.
Age 8, 2nd grade. The year everything started going wrong... I began getting called names at school. Feeling like i never fit in. Being kicked out of groups or left out. Sitting alone under the playground stairs. Hiding in my own space because i didnt want to hear the horrid things they would say to me... Teachers did nothing to stop this. They thought it was just some game that we played and that stuff like that would blow over. Incorrect. Things like that are serious, no matter how young you are.
The bullying continued for years. Never slowed down, only sped up. I didn't know what to do with myself anymore.
Age 12, 6th grade. I started having suicidal thoughts. Everything started getting to me really rough. I thought about self-harming but was always talked out of it. I cried for hours, days, weeks at a time. Hoping that everything would just return back to how it was when i was young and care-free.
The thoughts followed me through my transition to middle school. The bullying became worse... Names shouted at me in the cafeteria. Following me home in my mind. The voices inside my head taking over everything. I had had enough.
September 14, 2013. The day I couldnt hold it in anymore. I tried, and tried, and tried. Nothing worked. Nothing would distract me. I took my pencil sharpener, barely used, and broke it. I took the blade and pressed it up against my smooth skin. One cut turned to two, two cuts turned to four, so on and so forth. The stinging sensation reminding me that I was still alive, and soon turned into something pleasing.
September 15, 2013. 5th hour, Mr. Ivers. Watching a movie in class, when the principal walks in to the classroom. My name is called, the immature "ooh"'s comming from my classmates. I haden't done anything wrong. I haden't gotten in trouble that day. Taken to the counseling office, The asked to see my arms. Confused and scared, I asked why. Why did it matter? They couldnt see anything just by seeing me pass in the hallways. Refusing, again and again. Tears forming in my eyes and they tried to hold down my arm and pull up my sleeve. I tried so hard to restrain it but i couldnt anymore. I fell limp to the floor. the dreaded words escaping their mouths. Being judged right in front of me. They called my parents. Told them what happened and said they needed to talk to me. I went home, they acted as if nothing happened. I became relieved, thinking maybe they didn't find out. The night went on normal. I went to school the next day. My band bracelets covering my scars. I was called down to counseling. They made me see the therapist that came from the local hospital. After explaining why I did what i did, he presumed to tell me that i need to "keep my good thoughts in front", even though i had tried that and failed. I came home after the stressful day. After dinner, I was called down by my parents. They had read my journal, and found my blade. My mother sat there, antagonizing me for at least an hour. I sat there, crying, helpless. My mother finally sent me to bed. Crying myself to sleep. Over the months, it became an addiction. The blade being replaced over and over again, but nobody knowing.
January 23, 2014. I told myself I needed to stop. i tried and tried untill I finally became clean. I met someone, we fell in love... He was caught talking to me and grounded from everything. I fell into a relapse and started again. 2 months went by before I told myself I needed to stop again, knowing he wouldn't want me hurting myself like that. I stopped, I became clean, as I am today.
April 20, 2014. The day we made contact again. He had restored his parents trust for him. We started talking again. i was so happy, I started crying.
April 23, 2014. I know what you think, what were you thinking? This is the day that He and I met in person for the first time.. And let me tell you, it sounds so cliche, but this is the honest truth. My friend and I told her mom we needed a mexican candy only sold at a certain store, because he works there and wanted me to meet him. Her mom believed us, (ironic right?) and we went there. The first glance at him, I felt a tingling in my stomach. Something I never felt for anyone else. We went inside, my friend left us alone. Standing there awkward, He looks into my eyes and asks if he can have a hug.. Having been really stressed lately, I told him yes, I really needed a hug. We hugged, and it was unlike anything i've ever felt before.. We pulled away, and he took my hands in his. Looking into eachother's eyes, he starts to lean in... Procrastinating for a second, I give in as his lips brushed over mine. Fireworks erupted, and for the first time in years, I felt genuinely happy. As if nothing could tear me down anymore. I felt Complete... We talked for a little bit before we had to part ways. I left that day, happier than ever.
We still talk to this day. I still have suicidal thoughts sometimes, and I still want to bring out a blade sometimes. Theres nothing I can do to control those thoughts, only the actions I make when they occur. I've been clean for 2 months now. I'm getting better, hoping that maybe this time it'll stay this way...
I know this isnt your average fairy tale, awesome, amazing life story. Take a look around your school and There will most likely be at least one person like me. Not everyone has good lives, do what you can to make someones life good. Make someone happy, Befriend them. If they're quiet, make an effort to talk to them... And if you're like me, don't be afraid to speak up for yourself. Do what you can to be happy... Control those thoughts, find a distraction. I took up drawing as mine and it helps alot. Instead of using my hand to create scars on my body, i use it to create artwork, created by me. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'll be here. Even if i know nothing about you, i'd be more than willing to help...
My name is Tori, and this, is my story.
