Diary Of A Broken Heart

נכתב על ידי Madlyinlovexo

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Hannah's life is filled with deceptions and heart breaks. She appears to others like a strong, aggresif but y... עוד

Sad life, sad introduction

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נכתב על ידי Madlyinlovexo


Welcome into my broken life.

I would like to apologize in advance for what you will read in the following pages, my life has been destroyed in so many ways.

As the sixteen year old that I am, I have done more suicidal acts than most people in a lifetime. The worst part in all of this is I know I need help, but I also know that there's no help possible for me. Nobody can understand what I go throw every day, neither can they understand the feelings coming from deep inside of me. Most of the people reading this book are surely going to think I am part of those teens bullied at school with no friends. Wierd part is I am not bullied and I have plenty of friends and family members. I am probably one of the most surrounded sad person in the entire world. In a school filled with about two thousand students, there is absolutely not one person that I can related to in anyway. I will not lie, I have been bullied. Words have been said and mean stuffs came out from people who I think did not even realized they where bullies. For almost two years I had to go through what every bullied teenager go through. I used to get up every morning and count the hours I had to spend in school. The hours I would have to spend with people I didn't like, with a feeling that no body should ever have to feel. After my seven hours of school were over, I had to walk back home with not only my bullies, but there voices resounding inside my head. They were not only my bullies, they were my neighbors as well. I remember making up stories in my head just to forget what was going on in my real life. Coming back home, I would lock myself in the bathroom and cry, praying to be taken away from such a cruel world. I was only twelve, but I was a very smart twelve year old. I would usually cry for hours and stop about thirty minutes before my mom came back from work. It was just enough for the redness of my eyes to fade away. I would then pretend like nothing ever happend and continue my normal activities. Going trought hard times develloped my acting skills so well, that even now nobody notice when something is going on. My night were even more painful than my days. When everyone was asleep, I was still awake thinking about the same people hurting me every day. In one night, I could probably fill a cup with tears. I drowned myself in tears for people who was making jokes out of an human being. For the only reason that I was african and not skinny. If they were not making fun of my weight, they would make fun of the type of food I ate. If they were not talking about my food then they were talking about my mom. If they were not talking about her then they were surely talking about my dad. I would probably never understand what was so fun in the fact that my parents are divorced and they lived in two different countries. Neither will I ever understand what was funny in sticking in front of my house to record every thing that was being said just to play them at school and make fun of our accents.

I stuck with the idea that I had a weight issues for so long that at twelve years old, I was taking three weight lost pills a day just to loss weight. I feel so ridiculous for that, cause I now know that nothing was wrong with my weight. I was not even a houndred pounds yet and I was more active than I have ever been since then. I took those pills until I had an overdose in 2012, my first one at only twelve years old.

Even when I graduate primary school, I could not even enjoy the party that was healed. I was there to have fun, and I end up leaving school crying for whatever reason.

That summer have been wonderfull. I started modeling and dancing. My first year in high school then broke all what I tried building for myself. I had to go to a new school but still with the same old bullies. Starting in a new environnement, meeting new people but still carying the weight that have been my life for the past year.

I had a good friend, lets call her Sarah. We was friends in third grade, but happend to see each other again only in seven grade. She was my best friend at that time, and God only knows what I could have done for her. I was the shoulder she cried on. Whenever she needed me I would stop whatever I was doing just to make sure she was fine. When I ever heard someone talking negatively about her, I would step up and say something to defend her. I even protected her and stud up for her more than I did for myself. Like people say, I would have cross an ocean for her but she didnt knew it, or just didn't care. All she did was to treat me just like other did, just like you treat something you are ready to throw away. Today I finally realize Sarah never liked me or even ever considered me as a friend. Whenever I was with her, I always felt inferior to her. She was one of those whose presence will just make you feel like there's no place left for you. In the mean conversations where my name has been involved, Sarah was the investigator of over half of them.

I was turning thirteen and had to please a twelve year old girl, to make her love me. I had to fit all of her needs to make her happy and to pursued our friendship which I thought back then was real. Meanwhile, I forgot my own person by trying to please others. In the middle of deseperate actions to make people love me, I had my first love. In my case I should surely say my first loves. I find it wierd that at thirteen you need so much love that you could fall in love with a different guy every month or so. To be honest I should not even call it falling in love, cause the love was only from one side. You know, love comes from two people who genuely love each other and wants to move forward with that. But in my case, I was the only one to love and as always, I gave them the big dominant spot in my life. I opened the door for them to hurt me and let them do wrong to me. I gave them my heart and soul to show them my love, and all they did was to mock my feelings.

It still apparently didn't hit hard enough. All the pain left by those guys and all the pieces of my heart they left with probably wasn't that much of a leason for me. I still had to do that mistake, still had to broke my own heart once again. The day I let this fifteen year old boy in my life, changed it forever. He destroyed me in a way I would never forget. His name was Milan. I saw him once and felt for his smile. Somehow, Sarah once saw me looking at him and could not keep it for herself. The news went on around the school and started a new chapter in my bullying experience. Not only did I have to deal with people in my class, but I also had to deal with people in higher grades too. During that year, I have been called all type of names, by all type of people. From people who knew me, from those who didn't. I went from being called a monkey, to being called big mama. The most hurtful things were the racist ones. I already wasn't picturing myself as a beautiful girl. You can then probably guess that the words didn't help in any way. It then brought me to my second suicide tentative.

Not only was I not love by the outside world, but even my own family couldn't care less about me. I wrote a suicide letter and was ready to do it. I had no idea how, but I would lock myself in the bathroom and find out. I forgot to hide the letter,  and my mom found it. You're probably thinking after reading it, she sat me down, talked with me and help me get over it. Or at least she found a good psychologist for me, but that's not what happend. In fact, it is not even close to what ended up happening. I heard people laughing and I followed there laughter, who brought me to the room. I saw people siting on the bed, it was my mom and sister. They were not laughing due to something they saw on TV. They were laughing of what I wrote in the letter. I felt ashamed and could not do anything but cry. She did not only shared it with my sister, but even with her friends and people that came over. She was talking about what I wrote in a serious letter like it was a new sketch show. On that day, I felt something I never felt before. It was then that I decided that I could not count on any one. Not even my own blood. Not only did she left us at a young age, but she then comes back and take us to apparently "raise us". What type of parents will leave there kids in the first place? Why would she even come back to make us go through all of this.? Why couldn't she leave us where we were? We were maybe not in the most beautiful country on earth, but it will still be better than living a miserable life. She sometimes acts like somebody asked her to come and take us. Is it why she did it. Did she really came to take us back. Just to tell us how much she regrets picking us? What type of parent would say such hurtful things to there kids.? Don't you learn about contraception in school? Even I know it is the best way to keep you with no "regrets". I think the worst part about the pitiful bad mother that God unfortunately gave me, is she can never accept her mistakes. We are today, as i am writing this chapter, sleeping in a discussing motel just for her to see someone she calls "old friend". The same "old friend", with who she had her first child. She refers to him as her "friend", so that her best friend doesn't discover that her kids have more than one dad. Funny think is, she thinks she is being slick and discrete about it. She brought us to this trip, although we cleary told her we didn't want to come. She dragged us here,  just for her to see her so called "old friend". She then went to say that it is because her son needed to see his dad. Of course you have to bring a whole family for a twenty three years old man, who by the way works, to meet his dad. Like he couldn't pay a trip for himself. Like he couldn't go by himself. I now have to see somebody else's dad. The same somebody who is supposedly my "brother", the "brother", who I couldn't care less about. Why would I have to meet his dad, when I do not care about them both. And my own deadbeat dad that I didn't saw for over eight years now. My "stepbrother" speaks to his dad at least one every week. I for my own, talked to the deadbeat only twice in eight years and it was already five or six years ago. Whenever you try to talk to that stupid woman about her dumn choices, all she does is blame jealousy. Why? To avoid admitting her own errors.

I grew up forcing myself to forget it and love them no matter what, but the more I think about it and the more it is hard. To be completely honest, I consider myself as an orphan. My mom was dead a long time ago and my dad was dead even before. At first he was the one I loved the most, because he was less fortunate in life. Now that I think about it, why would you have kids with someone to then leave them. Wasn't just easy to associate with someone who want to be with. That's not want my so called "parents" did. I wish I never end up like those people. Not only do I have a slut of a dad, but I also have a prostitute as a mom. My "dad" gets with everything that moves and probably have kids with half of his town. My so called "mom" is not only a liar, but she is also just like him and have kids with every man that looks at her. Let me explain you more about my "dead family". I have a so called "brother", but we don't have the same dad. I also have a little sister with who I am supposed to share the same dad, but knowing that woman, I strongly doubt it. She is not only the kind of person to have kids with another man while she is in a relationship,  but she will also pretend like that baby is her boyfriend's.

In fact to be honest, I can't only blame her, cause it will not be fair. My "dad" also plays a big part in it. A big part in having kids with than kind of person. Not only that, but she also gave her the right to take us away, knowing what type of bad person she was.

I can not even probably explain the anger that I have toward all these people in only one chapter. I think every single one of them needs a chapter of there own...

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