My Anatomy

I'm fourteen years old and I know I'm not okay. I'm not in denial, I'm not hiding from the truth. I know that I'm depressed and I've tried to ask for help but every time I do I feel like I'm being a burden or my mother tells me that I'm fine, it's just life. I know it's not just life though, I know I'm not fine. I cut myself, and I sometimes drink myself into an oblivion. I put myself in situations that are potentially life threatening just so I can feel, and test myself. How far would I really go? I've found I'm willing to go to the end. I don't want it to get there though. I feel so alone. I feel like I can't tell anyone, and I have no one to talk to. My mind spins so out of control sometimes that I don't know what I'm doing or saying. I'll eat food, and then throw it up because I'm afraid to gain weight from it. I like to go out and lose myself so that I don't have to think, so that I avoid what's happening. My parents are divorced, my father never fought for custody. He's a barely-there more-like dead-beat who has a new family. My brother hates me, and my mother and I never get along. We're constantly yelling and fighting. She's always working, a workaholic as most call it, and she never spends time with me. My cousin, my heart and soul, died two years ago. My aunt is in the same deep depression I am. My best friend hears about this all the time but I can't bear to put him through it anymore. He says it's childish, but it doesn't feel childish. I feel exhausted, alone, broken, torn, and sore. I have panic-attacks regularly now.
I'm fourteen years old and I know I'm not okay. I feel like I'm old, I don't feel like a teenager who's enjoying life. I hate people, I hate talking, I hate being alone, and I hate silence. I'm a depressed contradiction full of hatred and confusion. Sometimes I see things, sometimes I feel like I'm being strangled. I loose my breath when I get so deep into a depression that I can't see straight. I started cutting myself when I was in the sixth grade, now I'm going into tenth. I've been to therapists, and they've never helped me. Some have listed mental illnesses, others have said it's my fault. It scares me.
I'm fourteen years old and I know I'm not okay. It scares me, so very much.
kelsigee kelsigee
13-15, F
1 Response Jul 27, 2010

I hope you can find strength to get through your issues, and I'm sorry for what you're going through. -many hugs-