In Honor Of Suicide Prevention Month, Here Goes My Story. When I Was 8, I Decided I'd Had Enough. My

In honor of suicide prevention month, here goes my story. When i was 8, i decided I'd had enough. My sister stopped talking to me, i had lost my favorite person, my friends left me, and my parents didn't care. I tried remaining happy, to please my parents and my teachers.But then my third grade teacher started yelling, I'd flinch and cry. And when my fourth grade teacher yelled and said I'd disappointed her, i cowered behind a locked restroom door. And then, at the ripe age of ten, i tried to die. I figured, what was the purpose? He was dead, she left me, i was alone with time to spare. So I grabbed a kn!fe and i ¢ut my arm. And it didn't bleed and i was mad. I was mad it didn't bleed, so i ¢ut again. Eventually, i found it addicting. Every time i would ¢ut deeper until one day, i found no amount of ¢uts would satisfy me. So instead of wanting to feel something, i didn't want to feel at all. So by the beginning of spring when i was twelve, i was overd0$ing. Any kind of p!lls i could take, i did. But when i couldn't feel anything at all, i met someone. She lit up my days and i loved her smile, and the way she aligned and how she spoke. So i followed her around, like a lost puppy looking for its owner. But when i told her i loved her she became distant. I loved her with everything i had and i thought we would grow up together. I was wrong. By early October of the year following, she left. I cried and yelled until my voice went hoarse. I spent a week without talking. I took a trip and met my niece and said i would live for her, i would live so i could show her the world when she grew up. But when i got back home my walls were painted a light shade of gray, and my sheets were missing, and all the p!lls were gone, and i couldn't find a single fucking kn!fe. I was fine up until then. But then my parents started to try to fix me. And then, i came out. And i thought it would be fine but i think it was never okay with them. So i shut my door and blared my music, and anyone who dared to open the door would have to leave. The Sunday after i came out my mom tried taking me to church to "help me feel better" and i denied. Then she tried pulling my arm towards the car while i was screaming and hitting and crying and i couldn't stop. When i finally wrenched my arm free i went to the only room in the house with locked doors and hid in the closet. I went back into my closet to breathe. And then i heard pounding on the door and locked myself in the closet, wishing and hoping she wouldn't get in. But she did. And i tried to calm down but she wouldn't let me, and she was telling and i could tell she was crying but not out of love or sympathy or pitty, but of anger. And then she called my dad to calm me down because she was "busy". But as i was calming down she walked by the door. I didn't have to look to know it was her because i could hear the pattern of her steps in the hardwood floor and i was afraid. I started to get angry but i couldn't move because my dad was holding me back. So i did the only thing i could do and i yelled. I yelled for her not to touch me. And i yelled for her to go away. And i yelled and yelled until my dad was shushing me and the dog was barking and the birds were screeching but i didn't care. A child shouldn't have to memorize the sound of their parents footsteps. A child shouldn't know how to ¢ut. A hidl shouldn't have to feel like if they couldn't please their family they were worthless. A child shouldn't have to worry about being safe in their house. A child shouldn't have to yell and fight to get away from their parents. I was seven when childhood ended.