Suicide Awareness

@-Editor-

@-Editor-

When I was younger, I was bullied. It started off as something entirely small, like a ball or two would be thrown at my head and I'd just laugh it off, thinking it was an accident.

Apparently that was the wrong thing to do.

After a few weeks of them teasing me and such, they soon approached me and backed me into a corner, asking why I was acting so 'tough'. And I was never the type to really talk and even if I was, I don't think I could have spoke or even said anything for that matter.

I was scared and they took that as another reason to hit me and push me. They made it seem like it was my fault, like I was the one doing something wrong.

And I believed every word that fell from their lips.

This went on for a few months and I thought I could handle it. I blocked out the world with music all the time and pretended I was someone else online for a quick escape. I wasn't being me.

I soon found ways to hurt myself and I was so ashamed of my body. My stomach sometimes had marks and scratches from where I would attempt to push it back in; to be flatter.

I hated myself. I could barely look in the mirror at times and I couldn't stand to be around people. They made me feel unworthy more than I already thought I was and the bullies would also use that to their advantage.

And deep inside I knew they would never stop until I-- the loser-- left. Which was exactly what I did when my Mom found out I didn't want to go to school anymore. She never found out about my bullies and I never told her.

When we moved, I was slowly begaing to become happy again. I got through the school year with almost no problems, everything was going great.

Except for my mom. That summer, she died. Our family got into a huge fight over me and my siblings and I was back into depression all over again. I spent my time locked away in my room, ashamed of myself for not spending more time with her. She had told me to call her the day before she died and I didn't, I was so selfish.

I struggled with suicide a lot that year before we moved again. My Dad, sister and brother all moved away to California leaving me behind with my Grandpa where I was again bullied.

Sometimes I think it can never get better. Life will always be hard. But as my mother told me, "It rains only for so long, before soon you'll be seeing that sun, all bright and shining up there in the sky." Maybe if I just wait a little longer, my sun will come.

Until then, I'll be waiting and praying that it gets better. I want the bullies to go away, I want my mom back and I want a better life. I want to be a new person all together.

But I know that suicide won't fix that. Ever.