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When my Life Faded Black
Copyright, Ticia
I've just started discovering myself... finally accepting the fact that I hate fashion magazines and pop music... i just kinda went along, floating by with whatever was popular... even though i terribly wasn't. It wasn't until about 2 years ago that i actually started discovering my self and ripping away the fakeness that consumed my life for so long. I did *gasp* illegal things, partied, listened to heavy metal/rock and lost my religion... i lost my big V at age 17 to a friend and have been depressed for going on 2 years. doesn't sound like a happy transformation, eh? i am happier in a way, at least i'm not fake anymore... i'm not afraid to be myself... that's all that i've gotten out of this shit.
Last summer at college i was alone... everyone left me (again) for a weekend of solitude in my dorm room. i found myself digging my nails into my forearm... finally i broke a leg razor and made a couple small incisions. i felt horribly good... i felt so desperate, yet relieved. i cried because of the shame, yet i did it again. my cat scratches have gotten deeper and more frequent. i've told my family and a few close friends yet no one ever intervenes... who would have thought that's the only thing that could make me stop... some sincere concern. I also kind of like the shock when i first tell people or they accidently find out... last night my bf saw my arm and just said "oh, jesus..." like he was shocked or some shit... he knew i did it... he just forgot to care... i guess it's getting worse even tho i'm in therapy now. yeah... that's my lame ass life.