Writing my own story

When so many people saw only what they wanted to see, when so many people misjudged, mistreated and misunderstood me I could never see the “light at the end of the tunnel”. Over the years since I was 11 to now, those around me saw it as attention seeking.
They never understood.
I got to a point earlier this year when I thought that it would be better for everyone if I wasn’t around, if I was to just disappear from this earth. Would anyone miss me? Probably not, were my thoughts. I didn’t know if anyone would miss me, but I did know that I would miss those around me. That sounds so corny but that’s how I felt.
Each day that I endured; at school where I feel lost with my friends, at home where all the time there was pain and abuse when home should be a “tranquil haven”. Why does society think that every home is the same. Why did people look at my body and judge me for what I had done. They had no idea what home life was like. Why should they? They’d never stopped to ask what the marks were for, or why I had cut so deep. They never asked.
I don’t look at self harm as a disability or a bad thing, I look at self harm as an easy way out.

My home life, was inpredictable. The arguments and fighting would be fine to handle.  On the outside, when I turned 15, I no longer cared what others saw. They wouldn’t understand anyway. The fighting would be frequent and my escape was to draw until I couldn’t stand it any longer and a blade was the next solution.
I loved to draw when I was younger, the sound of the paint being applied to the piece of artwork I was creating used to be my favourite sound.
I viewed my paintings as graceful and beautiful, but my friends thought they were depressing and soulless. That shattered my world, and I turned into a shell of a girl. Cliche, I know but I couldn’t seem to help it. I was falling into a darker hole and it was my so called friends who had put me there.

I made this one friend who I happened to find by chance, she was new to my school and we had not talked much since she arrived but that first class I remember with her, she never judged me as I sat next to her in my uniform, I knew she saw the cuts but she never stared. After a while we started to spend more time with each other out of lessons and we became the closest of friends. I never thought I’d be so lucky as to find someone who I bonded so closely with. I didn’t think I deserved it but she was mine and I was hers. We were each others’ equals me and her. We did everything together.
I noticed that she began to become quite quiet and withdrew herself from others when I got to know her better but with me she seemed to be open and social.
We appeared to bring the best out in each other.
We were in the park when she did something I’d never expected, she pulled the sleeves of her top up and showed me her scars. I was shocked and she cried, she said “you can give up on your family, you can give up on friends, but never give up on yourself.” She cried and we held each other until i said to her  “I’ll never let you down”. I meant this from the heart and we have been inseparable since.
My life changed because of her. We both promised each other to never give up on each other or ourselves.

I’m not going to say that my life was changed just like that. But I now had someone. I had someone who understood without asking “why”, “with what” and “are you okay?” We knew that we were never going to be “okay” because no one is ever “okay”. A life is never perfect and a life is never too bad to end. I realized that I’m not living today because I’m doing it for someone else, I’m living today because I haven’t given up on myself yet.

I hope this helps someone out there to realise that they too have the potential in their own life to live for themself and not for someone else because although it may be hard to grasp but we are all individuals, we all have something to offer.

Please don’t give up.