From the mouth of a crazy girl (story)

[volleyballchick751]

I wrote this awhile ago and Im considering to keep adding on and make in into a short novel. Do you think its entertaining ? any advice? thanks. (It keeps messing up the format)



According to my English teacher I have “It, what ever it is”. I suppose that means this piece of work should be a little bit better than your average 10th grader’s. To start off I’m not an average 10th grader. I’m crazy, you might dispute that but, the fact I’m on meds tells me otherwise. Granted I’m on the meds by my choice, I wanted this.
It all began with my stupidity in 7th grade, I didn’t acclimate well from home school to a public one. I hated the kids at school, they were mean. Calling me “fat” and “ugly”. I began to cut because I couldn’t handle the stress from school mixed with all the drama at home. I felt lost and misunderstood. I was always the “happy girl, with a bright, and , cheerful smile ”. That might have been my façade but, it wasn’t the real me. Inside I was falling apart, hating myself more with each passing day.
Most people believe that we learn from our family how to deal with stress and pressure (Sigmund I believe). I didn’t have very good role models, don’t get me wrong I love my parents, but screaming and shutting down aren’t the most effective ways to cope. I chose my own way to cope and it wasn’t a good or effective one. I would feel great during but, afterwards I was riddled with guilt. I can’t figure out why I turned to cutting, I guess I liked the pain and the “high” feeling. Then over the period of almost three years, it became part of me, part of my routine. You can say I was addicted.
At first It was just one time, a couple weeks would pass then once again. I managed to stop over the summer between 7th and 8th grade. During 8th it became more frequent, more cuts and harder to hide. I got bolder cutting on my wrists not just on my shoulders. I couldn’t help myself, I found it to exhilarating, fascinating to watch the blood ooze down my arms.
Apparently my brain does not quite understand how to react to an antidepressant , sure I was less sad, in fact It made me crazy happy. I was fine for the first month. Then I got really happy and tried to commit suicide. That is ironic. I was the happiest person in the world yet I wanted to kill myself. I don’t know why I did it. One morning before school I took all the sleeping pills I had. I woke up around ten hours later in the ICU. If you have ever had a “oh crap” moment well, that was mine