Thirteen

My names, Scone and this is my story.Thirteen's not all it's cracked up to be, at least it wasn't for me. It was a year that I struggled with a food, a razor blade became a very close friend, and I wanted to just hide in my coat closet. That whole year I felt like Nikki Sixx from Mötley Crüe when he was hoped up on heroin, hiding in his bedroom closet, surrounded by a bunch of dirty spoons, and a shotgun to protect him; because he thought people were trying to break into his house to kill him.

I started a new school and was scared that someone would know my secret that I was bisexual. Where I lived before it wasn't a good thing to be out. You could get the crap beaten out of you or worst killed. Two things I did not want. My first day want like all the ones before, I pretended I was in some other world and that was My World. I made friends with people easily and fit in pretty well. This one person who was close to where my locker was, a table next to me at lunch, and near me in all my class would become one of my best friends.

My home life was stressed filled and that's most likely why I did the stuff I did. I ended up skipping meals completely and learning tricks to not feel hungry: drinking tons of water, if I felt faint I'd eat a granola bar, and the easiest one was side tracking myself. I already didn't eat a lot so my eating habits what some might call a eating disorder went unnoticed. When few did ask me about it I didn't lie I told them the truth. I already had been skipping breakfast for years and dinner well dinner I never felt up to it. Strange thing was I was extremely healthy. Ah well I'm not complaining. I ended up breaking that habit.

The cutting didn't start till about the forth week of school, mom hated her job always complaining about it, and how much she wanted to up and quit, money was tight, and she and I would fight every night. When I couldn't sleep (almost all the time) I'd cry about everything. I'd get up the next morning completely wiped out, but that was one of my escapes. Those blissful six hours were part of my release, then I'd go home: break down, razor blade in hand, then hide in my coat closet for awhile. Very pathetic, but everyone always checks your bedroom never the coat closet.

My friendships drew deeper to the point I was freely out with a few and well it turned into three later four knowing about me cutting, but not my home life or my food issues. Did I want to tell them, yes I did, but that would be hard to see that scared gleam in their eyes. I couldn't face the facts to do it so I kept it a secret. The only person who I could safely take to talking to were my pets and what I'd scribbled in my notebooks.

I might have messed up my friendships with a few people with the information I was withholding or maybe it was something else. Who knows. I was all the time mentally absent, unless my friends needed me in anyway or form; then I made sure I was fully there.

Through the whole mess my grades never dropped they steadily increased. I didn't and still don't understand how that's even possible. I impressed my teachers and I shrugged it off. I always smiled to hide the mess behind the eyeliner and cover up that was my porcelain facade. When I didn't smile I felt like everyone could see inside my world. There were times I didn't smile and my eyes were glass like, my face to alien, and people would ask if, "I was okay?" I trained myself to answered 'yes'.

As the year grew past Christmas and New Years I was still spiraling downward, just waiting to crash. Months slugged by filled differently with stress and the little good things.

In April I finally reached the end of my tether. It was around eleven-thirty everyone was getting ready for bed and I started sobbing uncontrollably, for awhile till my mom called me into her room and just held me while I cried. I never said what was bothering me, but I did feel better. It happened a few more times in the up coming weeks until I told her I was having friend issues. It wasn't really a lie but not the whole truth either. I felt better after telling her and I started eating regularly and I wasn't as stressed as much since my mom stopped talking her job, money became uptight, and I slowly stopped cutting. I would still hide in my closet wrapped in my blanket, but it was my safe zone. A place that I could go and no one/nothing could hurt me.

When my fourteenth birthday was around the corner things improved a lot. When I turned fourteen I made a promise to not hurt myself again and tried to not stress myself. Now that I am fourteen I understand that everyone has moments like these and that all you can do is work through them. TIAD meaning Tomorrow Is Another Day.