Four in the evening on a Thursday was to be the day it was to all end, no more pain, harassment, feeling unwanted, and most of all not feeling good about myself. It was October three days after I turned fifteen during my freshman year of high-school that I would end my life, to ease the pain of going every day. I always asked myself “why not just go to a new school and try for a new start?”, and to this day I’ve never been able to answer myself that question.
I was in the bathroom with a razor blade; I already made two or three cuts on my wrists at the time. For me it was always I’d rather inflict the pain on myself than someone else and cutting my wrists was a way of drawing out the pain others inflicted on me, but that day was just horrible and I wanted it all over, and it nearly was. Just before making a cut down the wrist opposed to across the wrist, my phone rang from my bed. Placing the blade on the sink of the bathroom I went to go answer my phone. With my wrist still bleeding from earlier, I made my way to my bed. Someone I never considered a friend became the most important person that day, Jake was his name he called me and asked to hang out.
We were never really close during this time, and during this whole issue at school with my life slowly being torn apart no one stood up for me. And at the time I didn’t feel strong enough to do it myself because why bother it would just continue right? The phone call was short, Jake began the conversation by saying “Hey, want to come hangout for awhile,” “Sure, that would be great,” I replied. It was that one phone call that saved my life, as it gave me a feeling of worth and gave me faith that not all people are bad by going out of their way when everyone else was against me.
My hardship and pain all began when a girl moved from Texas to Kansas; I became quick friends with her as I knew how it felt to be an outcast. Months later she started to tell me personal things about her life, things that I wish she never told me as it changed my life for the worse, because this is when everything took a turn for the worse. She told others her same story and someone started telling everyone around school of her personal stories. All the blame was shifted to me instantly, I had no clue why, never was I mean to anyone, I kept to myself, but I guess that made me an easy scapegoat.
After the rumor started it was hard to walk class to class and I dreaded when the bell would make its loud ringing noise because I knew I had to walk those halls. It felt like I was in Hell, when I had to go to another class because of the snickering and whispering and the pointing people did to me as I walked there. It got so bad that people started texting me these horrible things. The worse one I can remember to this day is “I hope what happened to her