God Made Friends So Everyone Wouldn't Kill Themselves
Prologue
My name is Sam, and I was born to two very, um, interesting people. I was the first child, and the only child for 5 years. But then, when I was in kindergarten, my little brother was born. My parents named him Andy. I loved him so much; I would read him one of his baby books every night and sing him a lullaby. He was my pride and joy, even more so then my parents. I wanted to tell my classmates everything about him, so I did. I would brag about everything my brother did: if he was crawling, teetheing, walking, how cute he was, and much more.
Maybe that's why I didn't have many friends. Behind my back, kids would call me, "The Bragger". I stopped talking about my brother in school. But I still couldn't understand it, why couldn't people just understand that I loved my brother?
When I was in 5th grade, I started growing apart from my brother. He was 4 years old, and REALLY annoying. I started to try to make friends, but people would just say, "Why don't you go play with your brother?"
I started to hate my family and my life. When I was in 7th grade, the internet started to pull me in. I found out that some people helped their pain and hurt by cutting into their arms. I found out that this was called Emo. I knew I would never do anything like this, but still, I stole Andy's Boyscout pocket knife and hid it in my dresser.
I am 17 now, and still haven't used that knife. But I'm starting to wonder why people do that to themselves, maybe because it feels good...?
Maybe that's why I didn't have many friends. Behind my back, kids would call me, "The Bragger". I stopped talking about my brother in school. But I still couldn't understand it, why couldn't people just understand that I loved my brother?
When I was in 5th grade, I started growing apart from my brother. He was 4 years old, and REALLY annoying. I started to try to make friends, but people would just say, "Why don't you go play with your brother?"
I started to hate my family and my life. When I was in 7th grade, the internet started to pull me in. I found out that some people helped their pain and hurt by cutting into their arms. I found out that this was called Emo. I knew I would never do anything like this, but still, I stole Andy's Boyscout pocket knife and hid it in my dresser.
I am 17 now, and still haven't used that knife. But I'm starting to wonder why people do that to themselves, maybe because it feels good...?