I’ve grown to hate living since I was nine. My parents had always fought, but when they actually decided to get divorced was when I noticed it most. My step-dad (which I felt was like my biological dad since he had been raising me along with my mom since I was four) abandoned me along with his side of the family. Sure. Things like this happen all the time with families. Dads are just walking out all over the place. What hurt more than anything, was that he was going to adopt me. It was only a month until it would have been finalized, and instead he said straight to face that I was not his child. That my siblings were his children and actually related to him by blood. I fell into a really bad depression after that. I truly thought that I was worthless. Since my mom and I were practically best friends, I admitted to her that I was looking for sleeping pills. That I was wanting to take the whole bottle and die. It wasn’t long until my mom and my “aunt” had put me into a mental hospital. It didn’t help. I still isolated myself from everyone at school and never smiled or talked. I lost all my friends that year. It only got worse because my mom would always bring her boyfriends over and I thought of it as one of the worst things in the world. I missed my dad. Later, we moved into an apartment. I was starting middle school and things got a little better. I made new friends, but none of them are close to me. They know barely anything about me. At least it was better than having no friends at all though. Life had dropped again though. My grandma passed away slowly from cancer. It was the most horrible thing to witness. She slowly progressed to wear she couldn’t move at all or remember anything. When she finally passed, my mom fell apart. She would watch the video from the funeral over and over again. Obviously, she was grieving. But she didn’t grieve how she should have. She resorted to drugs, smoking, drinking, and dating. When we moved into my Aunts house, it got a little better again. Then my aunt found out about my little secret. I’ve been cutting myself or scratching myself since 6th grade. We moved again, away from some of that drama, but my mom got into a huge fight with my aunt, and it ended with my aunt saying how much she never wanted to see my mom again. This is where my story almost comes to a stop. I’m currently 13. My mom and I move in with her friend… and she passes away from overdosing on her friends medication. This was last summer. It was the worst sight in my life. My mom, my best friend, was dead. I feel like I’ve been left alone in this world with no one to talk to. And the only thing I wish for is for someone I’m comfortable with, to know me. Know I’m suffering, and comfort me, because bottling it up like I am now… is eating away at me piece by piece. My biological father that is actually related to me is terrible. He recently bought his 6th wife. He does drugs. He wants to see me, and maybe have custody of me. I live with my grandpa at the moment and I hope it stays that way, although, he’s not affectionate at all. And cheap. Tells me about tragedies that I don’t need to know about and never stops telling me lectures about school. My grades have fallen. I went to being a straight A student to having a D in math. I don’t want to look at the rest. Counselling doesn’t help. I go at least once a week but it’s hard to talk to her. I hate it because it makes my uncomfortable. I don’t know what to do with myself.
After writing this, I guess I’ve vented a little.