The Saints Of Mibba
Good Riddance.
I don't even remember what started it all.
Perhaps it was because of my friends and our very complex relationship.
Perhaps it was because of the bullying that started in eight grade.
Perhaps it was because of my dad. How he was never home.
Perhaps it just doesn't have a clear reason.
Over the last couple of years or so, I've been depressed, thought I had an eating disorder and avoidant personality, been bullied, found a best friend, lost friends, discovered new bands and lost some.
Then one Thursday I just decided not to go to school. I don't exactly know why but I just couldn't get up that morning and just cried, watching a certain live DVD I hadn't seen for a year. I was sick of every thing; mainly of trying to hide it. I'd been thinking about getting help for quite a while but every time I had the chance to tell someone, I choked. I couldn't get the words out, no matter how much I wanted to.
A song I hadn't paid much attention to before came on and I just listened the lyrics, realising how much they actually described my situation. And the idea just came to me; I could write it all down on paper and give it to my parents the next day. Then maybe, just maybe I could be normal again.
Friday came too soon for my liking but I had the letter ready - containing almost everything that had happened to me and that I was finally willing to admit something was wrong and needed help - and decided to be strong for once, leaving the papers on the kitchen table before going to school.
As I'd expected, my father had read my confession and as soon as I came home, he hugged me and so did my mother. To be honest, I hadn't thought they would care as much as they did. They talked to me about it, clearly worried. Mom called the school counsellor next week and I had a meeting with the woman on that Friday.
It was difficult, talking to her. I've always had this thing that I just don't want people to worry about me, it makes me cry to see worry in people's eyes and know that I'd caused it. I never want to hurt people. That's why I couldn't look into her eyes the whole time I was in her office. It's kind of a blur, actually. I can hardly remember anything else but the brown, dotted curtains I stared the whole hour as I was trying my hardest not to cry.
I've just started to get better and I know there will be lots of difficulties ahead of me - relapses of different kinds - but I know I'll make it alive. Because sometimes, life really is beautiful and worth living.
My best friend, dreams, favorite band and family will keep me safe, they'll help me through all the darkness and hopefully I can be happy soon. None of those people know exactly how much they mean to me but as a thank you to them, I will promise to be there for them whenever they need it and remind them that life really is unpredictable but in the end it's right
Perhaps it was because of my friends and our very complex relationship.
Perhaps it was because of the bullying that started in eight grade.
Perhaps it was because of my dad. How he was never home.
Perhaps it just doesn't have a clear reason.
Over the last couple of years or so, I've been depressed, thought I had an eating disorder and avoidant personality, been bullied, found a best friend, lost friends, discovered new bands and lost some.
Then one Thursday I just decided not to go to school. I don't exactly know why but I just couldn't get up that morning and just cried, watching a certain live DVD I hadn't seen for a year. I was sick of every thing; mainly of trying to hide it. I'd been thinking about getting help for quite a while but every time I had the chance to tell someone, I choked. I couldn't get the words out, no matter how much I wanted to.
A song I hadn't paid much attention to before came on and I just listened the lyrics, realising how much they actually described my situation. And the idea just came to me; I could write it all down on paper and give it to my parents the next day. Then maybe, just maybe I could be normal again.
Friday came too soon for my liking but I had the letter ready - containing almost everything that had happened to me and that I was finally willing to admit something was wrong and needed help - and decided to be strong for once, leaving the papers on the kitchen table before going to school.
As I'd expected, my father had read my confession and as soon as I came home, he hugged me and so did my mother. To be honest, I hadn't thought they would care as much as they did. They talked to me about it, clearly worried. Mom called the school counsellor next week and I had a meeting with the woman on that Friday.
It was difficult, talking to her. I've always had this thing that I just don't want people to worry about me, it makes me cry to see worry in people's eyes and know that I'd caused it. I never want to hurt people. That's why I couldn't look into her eyes the whole time I was in her office. It's kind of a blur, actually. I can hardly remember anything else but the brown, dotted curtains I stared the whole hour as I was trying my hardest not to cry.
I've just started to get better and I know there will be lots of difficulties ahead of me - relapses of different kinds - but I know I'll make it alive. Because sometimes, life really is beautiful and worth living.
My best friend, dreams, favorite band and family will keep me safe, they'll help me through all the darkness and hopefully I can be happy soon. None of those people know exactly how much they mean to me but as a thank you to them, I will promise to be there for them whenever they need it and remind them that life really is unpredictable but in the end it's right
♠ ♠ ♠
by Destruction.