Sometimes, people ask me what's wrong with me...
I'm smart, and could get good grades at school, but don't.
I live in a huge house, with all comfort I could want.
I have the chance to live my dreams
I have good friends, who are always supportive.
But still I'm depressed, suicidal, a cutter.
Well, let me tell you something...
I found my mom bleeding to death in the kitchen when I was 8.
I spent 4 hours searching the train tracks for her when I was 9.
I sneaked out of bed to steal my mothers booze and dump it when I was 10.
My dad started beating me when I was 11, because my mom was in a hospital, and he couldn't hit her anymore.
I got bullied and hated at school when I turned 12.
I started smoking and drinking because of my unhappiness at 13.
My best friend killed himself when I was 14.
I started cutting at 15.
I had my first suicide at 16.
And now I'm 17, and I hate myself for being depressed, because there are others who have it so much worse, and still manage to strugle on.
I am disgusted with my own weakness...