I don't know how to write this without utterly and completely boring you. My life is completely messed up and I needed it to come out. What better therapy is than writing? Plus, it doesn't matter if you, the reader of my life, reads this because I might never meet you. Look me up for all I care it doesn't matter. So:

I, Resa Mae Branum, of sound mind, hereby state that this is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

I am fifteen, born in Las VegasNevada in 1998 on Martin Luther King Jr.'s Birthday.

I used to have really bad depression and have mild now. No knew. If you are reading this Dad, or Mom, or any which family member who decided to snoop in my life, I regret never telling you. I tried, multiple times, I just couldn't.

It started when I was ten, I think. I don't have the best memory, and it could just be my mind shutting out the bad parts of my life. I read about that in books. I know it must be some time around when I was ten because that's when I first started to try to kill myself.

Don't worry, I was little, I had no idea how I could do it with out a knife and I don't like knives. It used to be a game to me. I would hold my breath until I chickened out and started breathing, or I'd try to strangle myself. One occasion, I tried to smother myself.

I was bullied, harshly. My sixth grade teacher even told me to my face that I was a disappointment to everyone. I told Mom, but she said I was imaging it. That started my reality problems.

Since then I was cautious of everything. If something big happens to, I have to double check if it's real. If something good happens, I have to triple check. Basically, my mom made me unsure of my sanity.

I had a step-dad since I was five. He was mean. He bruised my older brother's (Robert aka bobby) kidney and slapped him so hard that it left a red mark and bruise for a couple of days. We went to court and Dad got custody of Bobby. I had to stay.

Rewind a few years. I don't know when this started, but family life and school life made me hide away inside of myself. I read constantly. You could hardly see me with out a book. When I was eleven, I ran out of books. That's when I started writing. A lot. After Mom divorced my stepdad (not because of bobby who moved back after a year), we moved near her family in a trailer park. I was able to go to a library, where I got more books. Soon, I joined a writers club there. I was the only fourteen year old there. I wrote a story and read it aloud to them. They said I should write novels.

I moved to Hawaii that year. I lived with my Nanna, then with dad. I made many friends and got mobbed once. By fellow students who didn't like me. I'm still nervous around my friends. Past experiences with school and family, made me cautious for rejection. One time (only once, thankfully) I tried (and failed) to cut myself. My best friend is now cautious of me wearing long sleeves or something around my wrist. 'Course she doesn't know that there are other places to cut yourself. So yeah, um, that's my life so far. It's still fucked up, there's even more details that I'm just learning about, like the fact Bobby smoked since he was thirteen, and was sexually abused by my dads ex-girlfriends son Eli, my dad has a long lost half brother, Wendell, and Mom has a long lost sister, and my little half brother has a unknown brother named Bailey. So yeah, life is confusing and I'm still learning more about my family.