CONFESSIONS.

043.

In 2017 I just entered my first year in high school at a new school. I was glad to escape my old one since I was constantly bullied and purposely excluded from social events simply because I was two years younger than everyone else.

I was so excited to be coming to this new school and I had made two great friends. One of whom was one year younger than everyone else.

I forgot to mention that I’m in boarding school and home is six hours away and I don’t have any relatives living here.

Then there was Robin (fake name) who pretty much hated me because apperantly I smile too much.

Ever since I met her she made life a living hell for me. She spread rumours about me and in an all girl’s school they flew fast. Some older grades even hated me because of her.

I felt so destroyed but neither my two friends knew of this because they didn’t pay attention to gossip.

I tried telling my parents but they just claimed I’d get over it and they were paying so much money for me to go to a good school so there was no reason to act ungreatful.

I wanted to open up to my friends but then one of them had to go to another school and the other had been battling a chronic illness. I didn’t want to bother them with my problems so I kept it to myself.

I grew so frustrated and angry at myself. Everything I did or say was seen as an offence to others.

I’ve always tried telling myself that it’s always been them and not me but this happened for the second time.

I then turned to cutting myself. At first I didn’t like it and told myself I’d never do it again but eventually I got more comfortable with watching the beads of blood form on my skin.

I knew it was bad but I couldn’t bring myself to care much about that. All I thought of was how every cut made things seem a little better.

Then one fateful day I was at home for the weekend and I had been up all night and the next day was church. Then after church I’d go back to school.

My mom woke me up and was pretty pissed that I wasn’t ready. She dragged me to the shower before noticing the marks on my arm. She asked me what it was and I replied that it was nothing and got ready. 

The car ride was just too silent and I could feel the tention on the way there and back.  In the evening when my dad came home all hell broke loose.

My mom called me downstairs and both my parents were silent. Too silent. My dad called me and told me to roll back my sleeves. I froze.

I started crying refusing to do it and he said that if I didn’t he’d beat me and so I did. He was so disappointed. More than usual.

At first he yelled at me claiming I was in a cult and performing ‘blood sacrifices’. I denied it and I got equally angry at him for that.

My mom just sat in silence watching us argue. I never told them why I did it though because I always tried to tell them what was happening at school but they never listened.

My Dad threatened to beat me but I was resilliant and told him it wouldn’t stop me then he threatened to take away dancing which is an important part of my life and the only place I wasn’t bullied.

I cried and dashed upstairs to my room. The urge to cut was strong but I didn’t want them to take away dancing.

We ended up leaving (me and my mom) early in the morning to get to school and as soon as we got there my mo was telling me how stupid I was. How ungrateful I was and how she regretted having me.

I didn’t want to cry or else people would see my puffy eyes and wonder what happened. She got so mad she just strangled me but not enough for me to pass out and pulled me out of the car to get my stuff.

Just like that she left without even saying goodbye in the middle of the parking lot alone.

I hated it all. I hated my life. I hated my parents. I hated my school. I just wanted everything to go away.

Did I stop cutting? No. Their threats only encouraged me to cut in other places however it wasn’t as satisfying as it was on my arms.

A month later my parents act like it never happened and my mom would bring it up as a joke and laugh at me for it.

I was so angry and upset that once when she was drunk (she had a mini party with her friends) I threw her piggy bank onto the mirrowhich also broke and stole the money. She never found out that I did it though.

Everytime I get close to my parents my mind is flooded with the terrible memory of that day. They act like they know me but they don’t at all.

They didn’t pay attention to the death threats I received. Neither to the teacher’s complaints about other kids mistreating me.

If they just listened I would’ve told them why I cut. I would’ve told them I got first place for a national dance competition or the time my other friend’s dad forced me to strip naked while he took a picture.

Now in my second year nothing has changed. My mom would just casually say ‘did you stop cutting now?’ and I would never return the ‘we love you’s’ because to me they were the enemy.

They looked disappointed everytime I say I don’t wanna come home for the weekend or be distant and I do feel guilty but I can’t help to feel that they deserved it.

Maybe I deserved it too.