The Saints Of Mibba

I guess you could say it all started when I didn’t even know it did.

I for one thought it was part of growing up. I was only ten. I just thought it was normal. If I looked back on the journals I kept when I was ten, they'd probably be the same as now.

It was when I was twelve, and started middle school. Middle school was basically the same as high school because they kept the grades seven to twelve there anyways. I don't remember it all. I only remember when I had my first big crush, and boy, was I crushed. It didn't end too well. It never ended well.

There were so many friends I'd lost. One by one, it was like they were leaves falling from a tree. I couldn't keep the, what was I doing wrong?

And then the idea came to me. I don't remember. It just happened. I don't even remember where I read it. Maybe it was some weird inspiration from the music I'd started listening to.

"If it ever gets that bad... I can just do it. I'll just end it all."

It wasn't the brightest idea, but it would work. My mother suddenly had higher expectations from me than ever, now that I was in "high school". It seemed to be me. Always me.

Everything was like I wasn't good enough. I was tired and stressed and my parents always seemed to love my sister more, no matter how many time I've heard, "We love you both equally." I wish they would've told the truth. They were always pushing me and congratulating her. It was like I was never going to be good enough, but she was always going to be the best.

I pushed the thoughts out of my head and told myself it was just the music talking. I didn't want to do that; who wants to copy their favorite rock star's suicide? Nobody. I didn't want to look like a loser. So I didn't think about it. For a long time.

So, my thoughts being that I didn't want to look desperate, I kept them to myself. I didn't tell anybody. But I didn't know how dangerous that would've been.

Then, after starting an internet life, I found another reason that would make me hate myself even more: I was an 'emo poser'. Nobody wants to die just because. It was obviously all an act for attention.

I kept to myself even more.

Even though I'd managed to tell a friend, it wasn't going to help me. She ignored the problem like it wasn't there, and then I got to thinking that maybe my parents would ignore me, too. I didn't want that. I had to be their star child. I had to get 80's in school and join extra-curricular activities that got me a picture in the newspaper. They had to show me off at work. I had to be the child that they could make everyone jealous with. Always me.

Struggling through problems like not eating for weeks, not getting enough sleep at night, just made it worse until I finally cracked up on Christmas vacation in December 2007. I was stuck for two and a half weeks with my parents, and that consisted of them putting me down constantly. Even my sister had begun to follow in their footsteps. I wasn't good enough for anybody anymore.

There were roughly three times I tried, and over a hundred times I thought about it. But I always kept wondering, what would happen? Would my parents cry? What about the stories I had on the internet (as lame as it sounded), who would update them or tell them that I'd never update again?

So, I made a promise. It's probably so clichéd, but I promised myself that nobody would have to know and that I'd try and just take it one day at a time.

I'm trying, Mibba. I guess it feels really good to say those words.