Copyright, Tangia

My friends and I were going out to watch a movie and to eat. We were all around the age, if not already, sixteen. When the plans were made, it was thought that my friend’s dad would be driving. But, Alice showed up in her truck with Beth. My mother was very unhappy with this in made this clear with her disappointing look and extreme silent treatment. Getting the go ahead from my father, we left and enjoyed a movie.

The movie however, was not as distracting as I hoped it would be. Even in the company of my friends, I still thought back to the arguments that my mother and I had just had about my life in general. Being called fat, liar, cheat, drug addict, etc. by your own mother is a little upsetting.

We got home and my mother wouldn’t even look at me. Upset and already rather upset at the time I ran up to my room and just thought. My thoughts went to a special drawer in my jewelry box. It contained different pills that I had been selling and buying at the school and a blade from a pencil sharpener.

I emptied the contents onto my bed. Slowly, I carved random words that came to me into my arms and legs. After running out of room to write I took a long look at the pills.

I don’t remember how many I swallowed. I just remember waking up the next morning and throwing up. My little sister found me. She got my mother, who started yelling about sending me to a mental hospital if that’s the way I was going to act.

While I lay on the bathroom floor crying, my parents yelled and argued over who’s fault it was. They eventually took me to the hospital.

I now see a therapist weekly and I’m on anti-depressants. I’m doing slightly better. I still cut at times. It’s just a way to distract myself from what’s going on. But, it’s very destructive and, yeah…


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