One of my life stories? Here goes nothing. I grew up a beautiful life. Out on a hill, in the middle of a forest. I was relatively spoiled. My parents both worked full time, money was not a problem at that time. So, as you can see, a really beautiful life, no worries, with just my childish ambitions to pursue.
But then… middle school. The ‘awkward years’. Tweens. Tweens everywhere. Such a dreadful sight. My 6th grade year was just getting adjusted to the odd routine; 6 teachers? 6 class rooms? Wtf? I adjusted perfectly. I had my friends, life was beautiful, but meant something more. There was some hidden meaning to life, all that was needed was to simply live.
But then, 7th grade. Looking back I was a dreadful monster. I had a crush on someone who’s name is obviously John Smith, because i’m not telling you who it is. Well anyway, John Smith (that jerk), was one of the ‘cool’ kids. Madly in ‘love’ I was a waste of space, completely married to the idea that Mr. John Smith was ‘the one’. Well, turns out he liked the most popular girl in school. Figures.
To get over Smith, I developed the likes of depression. the end of 7th grade triggered an age of depression, which I am still fascinatingly enough going through. 8th grade came and went, I shifted friend groups, went through anxiety, stress, wanted to ‘fit in’. Well that happened.
High school saved me. The summer of 8th grade really helped me mess up my priorities. I was going to commit suicide. All most did, everything was planned out and I was determined to help my family get rid of me.
Suddenly, band camp.
Band Camp saved me. Before I made my arrangements, band camp happened. All of my friends were in it, I had a blast. We were working so hard, together. My euphoria only lasted the 3 weeks of band camp. First week of high school. I changed my life.
I still remember it, i was in the kitchen, about to make myself a bowl of pasta. Then I started thinking. “I shouldn’t be eating, I need to loose weight.” My hand faltered in bringing down the glass bowl. The bowl fell down and shattered. Clumsy me. Dropping bowls again. But this one was different. For this one, i kept.
The broken shards were the only thing that kept me from falling apart. I would self-harm daily for the first five months. Then i tried to stop. LOL lasted a week. Two years later, and here I am, covered in scars. No one knows.
I am lonely. My friends hate me. They don’t understand. I am not clean. They will never know. I’m a failure. My life was beautiful. So perfect, pure. But i stabbed it in just the right places. And now, now my life is anything but.
Whatever you do my friends, don’t go dropping bowls. Don’t drop them, don’t keep the shards. Your lives are beautiful. Stay gold. “Nothing gold can stay”.