The Day I Turned 11
At the age of 8 years old I knew there was something different about me. I always felt disconnected from everyone and out of place. I never could figure out why I was always so sad and why I felt the need to fake my smiles. Maybe it was because my mom was always using drugs and drinking and when she got mad she would hit really hard. I thought if I acted like she was the greatest person in the world she wouldnt hurt me. That worked for a little while. My dad was always working and my sister thought I was weird, so i was always by myself. Sometime between the age of 9-10 I began making myself throw up after I ate. On my 11th birthday my mom left me at the house all by myself I waited for her to come home and after three hours of wait I went into the bathroom and sliced my wrist with a razor. I cut myself everyday until she came back. After 2 weeks my arms were so red I had to start cutting my legs. My mom left me home alone for an entire month. My dad told me I would be fine. My arms are still cut up so yea I guess I'm fine.