Broken Windows

1~ The Eyes are the Window to the Soul.

My name is Rosa Williams, and I am 16 years, 4 months and 13 days old. There or there abouts. exactly 3 years, 2 months and 4 days ago, I was diagnosed with clinical depression, a mix of severe anxiety disorders, and the suicidal tendencies that came with it. For a 13 year, 2 month and 9 day old, that was a tough bite to swallow.

Oh, and im gay.

So naturally, what with the terrible cocktail of mental disorders which made me incredibally mentally unstable, paired with my flamboyant homosexuality, I found it way too hard to make friends during high school.

The diagnosis came when I was half way through my second year of high school, on the 9th of february 2013. When people found out about it, the little friends I had started to disappear, one by one. At first, it was them making excuses which I, unfortunatley, believed. But as time passed on they stopped making the effort to make the depressed girl feel better, and they just cut me out. I was ignored most days by the people I once called my friends.

I was alone.

But then, I remember the day vividly, the one friend I had remaining, left me. Somebody had found out that I was a raging gay. It was on the 30th may, 2013.

His name was Derik, Derik Mason. He told his friends who all had names of varying stupidity that I was a lesbian. My cropped haircut really didnt help my case. The story spread like wildfire. Soon, everyone in my class of 243 students knew that I was a 'dyke', as they liked to call me.

From that day on I vowed to never trust someone with a first name as their surname. No matter how nice they might seem.

My friend at the time, Jonathan Skyes, abandoned me as soon as he found out. His exact words are burned into my skull, and I remember them each and every night when I am drowning in my own thoughts.

"I cant believe I was friends with a faggot"

Really nice guy.

Because of his amazing actions, his abandonment and utter disregard for someones mental stability, I cannot trust somebody with a noun as a last name. It is simply impossible for me to do so.

All joking and sarcasm aside, that was one of the worst days of my life.

That also happens to be the day that I succumbed to my darkness that resided inside my skull and picked up a blade for the first time.

Again, nice guy.

So, at a ripe old age of 13 years, 5 months and 30 days, I had successfully ruined my chance at life.

Yay.

However, I had almost simultaneously given myself a way to escape from reality, a way to block the memories that brought me to the edge of my own self destruction.

My addiction brought me to the edge several times, I was admitted to hospital 6 times in the 2 years 11 months and 17 days that my addiction consumed me. And each of those 6 times brought me home safe where I could dwell in self pity alone.

But on the 7th time I was brought into the hospital, the doctors and the nurses there decided that enough was enough. I needed proper, proffessional phyciatric help.

And so there I went.

Redwood Minimum Security Mental Institution.

Oh joy.

Redwood is commonly known for the forest of redwood trees that surrounds the perimeter of the facility. Doesn't take a genius to know why its called Redwood.

As I stepped through those steel doors laden with scanners, codes and all sorts of security measures, I had never felt so alone.

Even though I was surrounded by security guards, armed with dangerous looking weaponry and clad head to toe in protective gear, ("I thought this was a minimum security institution" was my first thought) I had never felt so at risk, so helpless and vulnerable to everything that anyone could throw at me at any one time.