I've hoped and prayed for far too long, it's felt like. It has been my only wish for change - most preferrably in me. I've wanted out of this world before. I've created a lifetime of regrets. But I'm never going to stop trying. Because there is hope. And it has saved me.
In the past three years, for months at a time, my world would be a dark place. It fully sunk in after my last three grandparents - people I absolutely adored and looked up to - passed away in a five-month period. It's something that no one can fully comprehend, unless they've been actually depressed (and not just "my dog died, and I'm all depressed about it"). I would not be the person that every loved, and thought was the "funniest person alive." I would be quite. Everything would only make me feel worse. I'd be in my own little haunted world.
My appetite would either exist, or not. But it would mostly be constantly gorging down fatty foods, which in the end, made me feel even worse about myself. I gained so much weight that, well, people would make fun of me for being "fat." And that's another distress and pain to live through during middle school and high school years. I'd fake a smile, and I'd wear black to hide the damage. I had changed myself to fit my state, but I hide myself from the old me. But I missed her, and wanted her back somehow.
I found cutting as a way out; a haven. It wasn't an obsession, but it's something that made me happy, as strange as it sounds. A total stress-reliever. Again, no one understands the feeling unless one has actually done it; multiple times. But when my parents found out, I was placed onto medicine. Prozac was the name. I claim they are placebos; all medicine is. And I never think - I know that it won't work.
Nothing made me happy, and I continued wearing long sleeves. My parents would check my arms daily, and check how I was in my room. Every ten minutes. That triggered some anger issues that I've had for a long time now. I stopped the cutting for a while, knowing how much of a mess I'd already gotten in from doiug so. Well of course I'd do it again, but for now I'd just miss it. For now, I'd think about how uselesss I was. Daily, I'd be tormented by classmates - whom had never had a fondness for me in the first place - saying "Why don't just just go cut yourself?!" It became a joke to them. If I got annoyed by something, that's what they'd say. A lot of people said it. It all came down to when day I contemplated suicide. But I made the choice to tell my sister first. I was rushed to the doctor and perscribed a new medication; a new placebo to believe in. My doctor got thoroughly annoyed when I told her that. But then, I really didn't care what people thought; I had no confidence.
The worst part is that my classmates were never spoken to by the higher authorities, or suspended, or anything. They almost killed me. Well, they killed a part of me. And I went through this for two years. I finally decided to switchs schools; I wanted a fresh start on life and I was so happy to leave that school. If I were there any longer, I'd be dead. They made a bet to see how long I'd survive at my new school.
People are different everywhere, and that is one aspect in life that I appreciate. I've gone through one year at my new school and I'm alive. And it's been an amazing exoperience. I have faith in myself, and all the friends I left behind are very happy for me. They ask how I'm feeling and if I've done any more damage. And my new friends all know my backstory and believe in me. When they saw the scars, they didn't laugh. It was a whole new world. But when it's been a long hot streak, it must one day fall down to a cold one.
It came back to haunt me again, three weeks ago. I haven't eaten or slept. I'm too afraid to sleep. Lately, they've been nightmares. They seem so real. I wake up in near-tears having a horrible panic attack for hours at a time. Anything is a trigger. I'm paranoid. Anything can turn into a meltdown. And I've made stupid choices, that I'm not proud of at all.
It's chronic depression. It's genetic. And it'll never be changed. But I can fight it. Every one has told me to hope for the best. I'm not the religious type, but my friend has told me to pray. And I have. I have my friends and family to watch over me. It's going to take time. But watch me, I'll be back. They know I'm going to stay alive. I know I'm going to. I'm not sure about what I want to do for the rest of my life yet, but it's better than not having one at all. But getting back to the old me; I'm still not there yet.
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