My Story, Untold.

I've said this a billion times, that I am not a very open person. I used to be, but our struggles change us. You might not care, and that's fine. Who really wants to read another whiney post on Blogger from some random teenager? I just think it's time to start showing you guys who I really am. I'm hoping that by reading about my mistakes, you can prevent some of them. I'm going to warn you now, this post may contain explicit content, such as drugs, cutting, and other juvenile things, so if you are against any of these things, stop reading now.

I am an average student, I have no clue how to drive, and I am a very guarded and wary person.
But the question I often find others asking is, how did you become this way? That's a complicated thing to answer, because I don't think anyone really realizes when they have lost themselves.



I'd say I really lost myself when I was 11 years old. I won't go into detail, because for one, no one really cares, and second, I'm not ready to fully talk about it. But I will say that I trusted someone, and they took advantage of me. Want more detail? I'll give you some lyrics, and I'll allow you to make up your own conclusion about it. This is Warrior by Demi Lovato.

"This is a story that I've never told,
I gotta get this off my chest to let it go.
I need to take back the light inside you stole.
You're a criminal, and you steal like you're a pro.

All the pain and the truth,
I wear like a battle wound.
So ashamed, so confused.
I was broken and bruised."

"There's a part of me I can't get back.
A little girl grew up too fast.
All it took was once, I'll never be the same.
Now I'm taking back my life today,
Nothing left that you can say,
'Cause you were never gonna take the blame anyway."

Once it happened, I wasn't sure how to feel. I was scared to tell, and I didn't want to acknowledge that it happened. It took until this year to realize that it wasn't my fault, and that's why I'm speaking up about it. Don't ever let anyone take advantage of you, or make you feel worthless. No means no. Don't feel stupid for saying it, ever.

I began struggling with depression, and I still do struggle, but through therapy, I am slowly becoming myself again. Or at least, as close to myself as I'll ever be again. So how does one deal with the unfamiliar emotions, and haunting nightmares that began gracing my life? Well, at first I just kept telling myself it didn't happen, that I was fine. But that only worked for a couple months, before I began to feel hopeless, worthless, and disgusting.

I couldn't, and still can't look into the mirror without feeling disgusted with myself, and hating everything I see. Now please don't start lecturing about how I'm actually a beautiful person, because no matter what, I don't see it. I see the flaws and the monster that lies underneath the surface, but my mask hides it.

So when pretending it didn't happen no longer worked, I moved on to more extreme ways of coping with it. I started with drugs. Nothing hardcore of course, I refuse to ever touch hard drugs. If you do meth, I have absolutely no respect for you, and I will not associate with you. I had someone very close to me do meth around me, and that was scarring enough. I could tell you what drug I used, but does that matter? Will it make me a better person to acknowledge and share to the internet the things I've experimented with? No, probably not. Infact, I'm still debating with myself on whether this post is even a good idea, since this is a school blog. But I'm ready to come clean, and this is the only way I know how to do it.

I can assure you it was not a strong drug, or maybe it is, depending on your perspective.
Also, I'd really appreciate it if no one lectured me about all the stupid things I've done. I know, I messed up. I don't need a reminder. So I began drugs when I was 11, and I actually just finally quit last year. Baby-steps, guys.

The drugs helped for a while as well, for almost a year, and it was easy to forget what happened and act almost normal around everyone. But good things eventually come to an end, and that end was 7th grade. I had a friend who enjoyed cutting and eraser burns, and at first, I thought she was absolutely mental for even wanting to harm her body. But I remember hurting so bad, to the point where I did one cut, and I saw the appeal of it.

So the rest of this story is spent dealing with relapse over and over again. You don't think that cutting could ever be addicting, because how could pain feel good? Well, it does. But I'm also a very crazy and psychologically damaged person. When you mutilate, however you choose to do it, because there are many forms of it, it releases this chemical in your brain that makes you feel good. But the important part to me was it made me feel. As I've said before, I grew used to feeling nothing. Maybe you're already questioning why I didn't seek help? Looking back at it, I think mostly it was my lack of trust in people. The person stole something that I can never get back: my innocence, my light, and my love.

In 8th grade, I had just transferred to a new school, and everything seemed to be getting better. I had real friends for once, and I thought my life was looking up. But once again, the monster decided to seep out of my pores and play. So I began cutting again, after almost 8 months of sobriety. I was admitted to a mental hospital for a couple days, but it did little to help. It's amazing how gullible people can truly be. Slap on a smile and tell them you're fine, and they believe it.

I was released, and I crawled right back to drugs. Yes, call me weak and stupid all you want. I've heard the speeches before. There were these girls I had recently became friends with, but only one of them is important in this story. They were all foster sisters who lived down the road from us, but I was only close to two of them. We'll call them Alice and Maya. Alice was the first one I met, when she sat alone in gym class and I invited her to sit with us at lunch. See, I know all too well what it's like to be the new kid. I've went to about eight different schools, and I know how much it sucks to be friendless and alone. She was all too thrilled to have a companion for lunch. She seemed like such a nice, amazing person, and I remember asking my best friend if she liked her on our walk home from school, and she said "No, she's two-faced." I automatically defended Alice, because I liked her. But I should of listened to my best friend, because she ended up being right.

There were four foster sisters, and the only one who did not do drugs was Alice, and I was fine with it, because no one likes being pressured into doing something they don't want to do. Alice and my friendship continued to grow, as did my friendship with Maya, even though I disliked Maya at first. Well, I remember around December of 2011, Maya began doing drugs with us, and she liked it… Or so I thought.

I remember December 16, 2011, I was pulled out of class and pulled into the principal's office. I had a good idea what it was about. The previous day, Alice, Maya, and I had ditched school. I had already been caught for ditching before, so I knew what to expect. But the next words that came out of the principal's mouth caught me off guard. "There are rumors going around, that you, Alice, and Maya ditched school yesterday and smoked marijuana with your dad."

Well, the latter was true, minus my dad. My dad did not know about my drug use, and I had planned on keeping it that way. He would kill me if he found out. I wrote a statement denying the charges, because my dad was in no way involved in this. But when two other people gang up on you, it's a little hard to sound believable, and that's exactly what happened. Alice had told her mother, and her mother called the school, and that's what got me into the sticky mess. My dad was arrested on three accounts of distribution to miners, spent 7 months in jail, and I am no longer allowed to see him, due to a restraining order.

I then moved back to Ridgway, despite a lot of protesting. I hated this town the first two times, I wasn't really digging it then either. I was still upset about my dad and having to move on, but I sucked it up and pushed on with my life. At first, things were decent. I had a couple friends, and I was doing well in school, so what more could I want? I remember during that time, I was struggling to find myself again, and it was starting to affect me. I told one of my friends a huge secret, a secret I thought I could absolutely trust her with. I told her I thought I was bisexual, and to my relief, she was cool with it.

But as I've learned, never trust anyone. Even your shadow leaves you when it's dark. As it turned out, that statement is the one thing I've found to be completely true. She told another girl, who then told the whole school. You might not think it was a big deal, and at first, the worst I had to deal with was girls in my class snickering at me and giving me dirty looks in the locker room. It was easy enough to ignore, even though I was now friendless, because my friends cared too much about popularity.

And then, one day, it suddenly changed. I got into the locker room for gym, and I was slammed into a locker. The physical pain wasn't even the worst thing. It was what they said that made me upset. They taunted me, telling me I was ugly, worthless, a freak, and they were afraid of my huge lesbian crushes on all of them. The rest of that year passed by slowly, b-days became my personal hell. I was slammed into lockers, I was called every name in the book, and they threw things at me.

It got to the point where I didn't even want to get out of bed in the morning. Shockingly, no one noticed what was wrong. I found the only way I could cope with the pain, was by cutting. And cutting it was. I cut a lot, to the point where even now, after being sober for almost 2 months, I still crave it.
Maybe I'm getting too personal. It's probably better to stop now, before I let out all the secrets I've been holding in.

The moral of this story is drugs may feel good for a while, but eventually, they ruin your life, just as they have for me, and millions of other people. Don't start cutting, ever. I'm serious, it is one of the biggest mistakes you'll ever make. I regret ever starting, and even now as I type this, I find myself wanting to do it. And the third lesson is to be wary, because not everyone is as they appear.