Practice- A Dricki Fanfic

Depressed.

So I bet y'all are wondering why I haven't written any of my stories in a while. Sorry, I'm just majorly depressed.

I've been through too much shit this year, and I've become really fragile because of it. My step dad and my mom got divorced because he was abusing me. Not hitting, but he was clever enough to know how to do it so it wasn't noticeable. He would have my sister and I stand in a corner for seven to eight hours, sometimes without anything to eat.

I loved him, but it broke my heart.

They separated when they learned I had been cutting because of him. I self harmed in any way I could, from using razors to giving myself scratch marks with my fingernails. I don't cut to take away the mental pain. I cut because I hurt those around me. Might as well hurt myself, too.

I don't care about myself enough to care about my feelings. Only other people's. I cut because I hurt them.

So after two suicide attempts, I started going to therapy. I hate being asked questions. No one knows how I feel, and I'd rather it stay that way.

So far, I've been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, ADHD, dyscalculia, sensitivity, and I came up with this one, and over active imagination. I straight mean that I can't look at a tree at night and see it as a tree. What I see is a giant monster, ready to kill me. I also hear voices sometimes, but that's beside the point.

So earlier, my sister's friends asked if they could have my siblings over for a camp out in their back yard. Shit, I wanted to go. I'm thirteen, but they were like six. Also, it wasn't even camp! It was just playing outside and making tents. No s'mores. No fires. No night stories. So I didn't go.

My dad (my mom and biological dad have joint custody over me) came home and asked why I didn't go. I said cause it wasn't a real camp. He got kinda mad and said, "Well, at least Breana (sister) and Bubba (my brother, his real name is Aiden) like to try new things, instead of sitting in front of the TV all day, on their phone."

That shit cut deep.

Did I mention I'm sensitive?

Skitz, one of my alter egos, wanted to fire back. Ivy, my second alter ego, made me sit there, taking in what my father had just said. I felt the tears gathering in my eyes. I didn't purposely sit in the house all day. My third alter ego wanted me to hang myself. I don't know, they fight all the time. I can never decide what to do.

I'm majorly introverted. I don't like to be around other people. I'm also really shy, and the only way I feel I can express my feelings is by writing it down. Or, in this case, typing. I'm a night owl. I'd rather go outside at night than in the day time. Despite my huge imagination.

So I just sat outside, letting the tears fall, because I'm such a bad person. I'd change for my father. I would. I don't care about myself at all. Only the people around me.

So, that's it, if you were wondering why I haven't been updating anything. I'm just depressed. I have no more fight left in me. After my dad leaving when I was five (but I still go to his house every weekend) and then my step dad leaving when I was twelve last year (we have a restraining order against him now), I gave up on life. Not for the fact that they left, but the weight of guilt finally slammed on me. I was probably the reason they left. If I never would have told anyone. .

So, yep. I'll try to have the next chapter out by tomorrow evening, if I don't kill myself first.

Thank you so much for listening to me when no one else would.

   -Janae ✌