For when you lose your way
I've been doing some bad things lately. I don't mean to do it, but all the fighting and hitting and tears and seperation builds up sometimes. And I have to do bad things.
They arn't fun. The seven year old on t.v. was wrong. Doing bad things isn't fun. I'm only fifteen. I'm not supposed to be this depressed. Not supposed to be having suicidal thoughts. Turning to drink and smoke. Thats not what fifteen year olds are supposed to do.
So how did it happen to me? Maybe when I saw how being drunk made my dad forget all his problems? Maybe when I saw how smoking made my mom carefree? I don't know, but somehow in the last week and a half I've gone from being good and pure and not touching anything that could damage my body to stealing my parents alchol and smokes and then brushing my teeth like crazy when I'm done.
Don't you just feel like sometimes you have to do these things? Like you have to do something, ANYTHING, that will make the pain subside, even if only for a few minutes? Thats how I feel. I'm willing to damage my body, the thing thats working so hard to keep me alive, as long as my anger is gone for a few brief moments.
I used to write. Up until recently, my gate way to freedom was writing. But now I turn to things that you arn't supposed to turn to until your homeless and alone and your whole life is upside down....wait...I'm homeless...I am alone....and my whole life is so upside down that I wake up on the ceiling.
But I don't cut. I don't have sex with strangers. I'm still a virgin. And I'm proud of myself for that. I haven't killed myself yet. But I'm not going to lie to you, I tried. I filled the bathtub to the brim and held my head underwater. For a long time. I started getting dizzy and struggling against myself. But I kept my head under. I kept thinking, 'As long as the pain is gone, I don't care how I have to do it.'
But then I thought of my sisters who I hoped would miss me if I die. I thought of my dogs, who I love alot. They're like brothers. I thought of the few friends I had and how long it had taken me to open up to them, to get as close as we did. And I sure as hell didn't want to lose it. So I brought my head up. And I haven't tried to drown myself since. I haven't tried to kill myself. I'm still alive.
I punch walls alot though. I don't tell my parents anymore because they only get mad, not worried. They don't want me to dent the wall. And I like to light things on fire. Paper mostly. I hope I don't become a pyro. Because the next step from pyro is murder. And I couldn't do that. Couldn't take another life.
God I hope I can get help. I hope its not to late for me to change.
Please, pray for me.