When I was 6 my dad died
from alcoholism. His liver failed after spending 2 weeks on the
street and then another two in the hospital. I didn't see him the
last month of his life and I never will see him. I will never be
able to call him dad and when I get married I won't have him to walk
me down the aisle. For a few years that to me was ok, but when I
turned 12 I experienced something known as a paper cut. That got me
into cutting and then slashing then a whole other mess. I finally
told my mom which she freaked out and started crying.
I had my friends
though. We were the 3 stooges. We were together forever, best
friends. We would talk forever and to me as long as I had that,
everything was ok. I went into therapy and was diagnosed with post
traumatic stress disorder, agitated depression, depression, extreme
anxiety, and an addiction for cutting. I was put on Zoloft and went
to therapy every week or every other week. Things started looking
up. I wasn't cutting as much and I was smiling.
Then things went down
hill. My friend left me to go to a mental hospital and my other
friend went into alcohol. I started cutting and slashing and
crying. I missed my dad. For the first time it hit me. I have no
dad, never will. They upped my meds and again things got better.
My friend came back
but she wasn't the same. I guess things between the 3 stooges fell
apart. A few weeks ago they left me and basically threw me to the
curb, right after the only thing I ever loved died, my dog, who was
my best friend. The one thing I knew would never leave me left me in
a sudden tumor growth. Now I have one friend, KT. My old friends
resent me and cant stand to even mention my name.
My dog has died, my
shrink knows nothing about me. I never take my meds. and I'm
entering high school. Still depressed, still lonely, still me.