My Complications

Copyright, Pixi

I try to look back over my life, but I have made myself forget most of it, well, the bad bits of it anyway. I suppose it all started in primary school, I was best friends with Amy (the most popular girl in school). I wasn’t at all popular though. I was different, I went to festivals, I went to home-ed gatherings. Also, everyone was envious of me and Amy. Everyone hated me for the fact that we were so close.

Then bullying started when she wasn’t around. At first it was just name calling, but when they realised that wasn’t getting to me, they started hitting me, throwing stuff at me, taking my bag, taking my work. I stopped going to school. Me and Amy stayed best friends. The bullying went back to name calling.

Then it all changed, Amy went to secondary, and turned into a townie. She seemed to hate me for no reason. We were completely separated. I had no friend in the village that I lived in after that. I became depressed because I was lonely.

Then, one night, coming back from gymnastics, I came into the car park about five minutes walk from my house. I could see a bunch of the older bullies. One of them, I think really hated me. He was a lot older than me, he was about seventeen, and I was eleven. When I tried to go past them they started calling out things. Then one grabbed me, and raped me. I was so young, I didn’t know what was happening, I didn’t know what to do. I went home. I couldn’t tell my mother. I didn’t really know what had happened.

That’s when I started to self harm, it had all built up, I couldn’t just pretend none of it had happened anymore. I started with cutting, then burning, and then cutting again. Most of it on my wrist, some, mainly the more serious cuts, were on my legs.

When I grew older, I made more friends, I blocked out the bullying, I made myself believe they weren’t worth it. The new friends I had loved me, and I loved them. I had a few close friends, one of whom I could talk to about anything and everything. She was a lot older than me, I was fourteen she was twenty-three. I told her about my cutting, though it had subsided, I hadn’t stopped cutting completely.

She wanted me to tell my mother, she thought it was the best thing to do. I felt betrayed, she can’t understand what it’s like, and you just can’t, unless you’ve been here. She told my mother in the end, I felt so hurt inside, I didn’t understand why she had to do that to me. She then distances herself from me; she wouldn’t talk to me, see me or answer my texts. I started cutting more again then, it was the only way for me to get a release. I slowly healed. I didn’t care about her anymore.

I made another good friend a while after that, she helped me through a rough relationship. Then I felt so close to her, I felt secure around her, when I was talking to her, I felt like I could say anything, and nothing would make her want to abolish our friendship. But then we fell out, made up, fell out, made up. I wanted to hurt her sometimes, she hurt me. I told her that on MSN on night, and then blocked her. She then sent me a text saying that her whole life is hurt, so don’t I hurt her more there was a lot more than that in there, but I don’t feel obliged to say more.

That brings me up to the present time. I don’t feel completely alone at the moment; I’ve lost a couple of good friends recently, but also made a few. I am reasonably happy, I haven’t stopped cutting, I can’t but I’m not as depressed as I used to be.


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