Pick Up The Phone Baby, You're Not Alone Anymore.

Fast forward a year and a half I’m right smack dab in the middle of 7th grade. I was still the same melancholy, still dark but now? I’d added a black hoodie with blue and white skulls all over it; not because I was making a fashion statement, I needed something to hide the pale white lines littering my arms with. In 7th grade, news travels fast; rumors though? They travel way faster. One of my so called friends had told the world that I had been cutting; that started it all. Kids on my bus would throw scissors at me and tell me to go cry in a corner or they’d hit me across the face with something and ask me if I was gonna cry about it. I guess I just took what they threw at me because I figured eventually they’d stop. They did, though they each threw one last thing at me. One was a Gatorade bottle; still filled with all its contents but the lid was cracked open just enough to spill all over me. Another girl threw a pair of kitchen shears at me; I had a rather large gash across my cheek for a week. I’ve still got a faint scar that I cover now a day. Lastly it was one of my journals that had gone missing weeks ago. I thought I’d lost it in my room I didn’t.

Inside the recounts of my life had been scribbled over with so many things like “Shut up emo kid” or “Go do us all a favor, kill yourself.” But lastly? There was one that said no one cared about me. That one I could believe. So once again I started to cut and drink so much worse than I had been lately by the end of the week there was 4 bottles of vodka missing from my dad’s stash and I was resorting to just cutting over old scars. I was fucked up and I knew that. But over the summer, I had meant a foreign exchange student at a concert his name was Nicolai; he had the funniest accent, I soon learned it was because he was Danish. I never really thought much about him after he left; we still talked over the internet but never saw each other again. Little did I know he might be the reason I’m still alive to tell this story.