Diary Of A Broken Heart

Sad life, sad introduction

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.