ineffable

i | You're a Fighter

{one-shot #3}

Some people say that self-hatred is toxic.

But I think it's justified if you have a real reason to feel that way about yourself.

My name is Cassidy Palmer and I ruin everything.

My life was perfect. I had the perfect family, the perfect friends, the perfect boyfriend, but I threw it all away for a few moments of bliss. A few minutes of euphoria.

It started with a cigarette. I was fourteen and stupid. A bunch of seniors were smoking behind the school and I wanted so much to fit in that when they handed me the cigarette I placed to my lips and inhaled.

It was horrible.

I hated the taste of it.

I hated the smell of it.

I hated the way it burned my lungs.

But for some odd, selfish reason, I kept going back and I kept asking for more. It was simple fun for me back then, I was chasing acceptance getting high was a bonus.

It was only supposed to be a few smokes at the back of the school. Only a cigarette and nothing more, but then they offered me alcohol. I thought I had hit a gold mine.

I was going through a lot back then. My grades were slipping, I was bullied by my peers, and I felt ugly and unaccepted.

So when they handed me a death sentence on a silver platter I smiled at them and I took it.

My parents got divorced when I was sixteen and that was my turning point. I stopped caring and what they offered me didn't matter anymore — I took everything.

Weed.

Meth.

Cocaine.

Everything. Sometimes I didn't even know what the drug was. I took it all. I didn't realize that I was slowly killing myself. Until one night I coughed and there was blood splattered across the tissue.

And even then I didn't stop.

My boyfriend would tell me, "Penny." Penny. That was my middle name, the name everyone called me. "I don't think you should go to these parties anymore. Don't you see what you're doing to yourself?"

And I'd say, "Relax John. It's not like I'm doing anything bad."

Now I wish I had listened to him. Wish I had heard his desperate pleas for me to stop. Wish I knew then what I know now. But I was unstoppable. I just kept going.

Until one day he came searching for me. He saw me sitting on some guy's lap intoxicated and disoriented. He gave up on me that day. I saw the pain in his eyes as he walked away, but the only thing I did was mindlessly giggle.

It hit me like a rock.

First the divorce.

Then the breakup.

To cope I tightened the strap around my hand and I injected venom in my veins. I knew what I was doing. I knew.

My hair started to fall out.

I started to lose weight.

My teeth were yellowing.

I had an addiction, but I didn't want to admit it.

All these signs, yet I still didn't stop. It came to a point where even they told me that I had a problem. They said I needed help. I lost the persons who I thought were my friends, I didn't realize they were just looking out for me.