I'm getting better

I’m getting better now, it's almost over, all the pain and depression. Its been so long, sure I put up a good front, but its all an act.

I wasn't ok, I never was since Lilly died, I haven’t had a happy moment.
Lilly was my best friend, and she meant everything to me. I was the only one who got her and she was the only one who got me. She was my best friend and I was always there for her as she was for me, through all of the good times and bad. Its just a pity there was more bad.

Lilly got bullied, and not just mean comments and glares from assholes bullied. But severe bullied, she was shoved into lockers, pushed down, bashed, tripped. I was always alone side her and I got picked on sometimes too but for some reason she always got the worse end. My trauma at that time was at home.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my mum and dad, a lot. But a few years before the time Lilly died, my dad was diagnosed with OCD ‘obsessive, cleaning disorder’ that along with a few other things, he would drive our family mad, mum most of all. As it turns out he was lying about the money, we had been lead to believe we had nothing while all the time he had been keeping it for other purposes . he was always lying to us and he was a good father, but it wasn’t enough our family was hostile my parents don’t love each other, and now there getting a divorce.

While I was struggling with my home issues Lilly had hers. She had recently met a guy online, he was a wonder to her, they soon became friends and he made her feel so much better. But after a while he started making and spreading the most horrid rumors about her, he would send things to others like: Lilly fucked him and is a dirty whore, a slut not to be trusted. He sent these things to random strangers and people Lilly knew. She soon began to get hate mail. The most vial of things would be sent to her, from people she knew and total strangers. The bulling at school got worse and I remember spending the last days of her life sitting with her holding her as she cried.

The last time I saw her alive, I had stayed holding her so long the night was over and day had begun to show. I sat up and said “I’ll be back in an hour or so” she nodded. I remember coming back, entering her street and seeing the police cars flashing outside, I remember running to her house as an ambulance rushed past. But they were too late, I saw her as I burst through her room. I will never forget the site, the bottle of pain killers knocked on the ground, the bloody sheets, the knife that had been thrust into her stomach and the deep cuts in her wrists.
I will forever remember the cold hands of the police who had to pry me from her body, I wouldn’t let them I just sat there holding her, and this time it was my turn to cry.

I’m almost better, the doctor said I’m not far from leaving depression. I left that school and my new one has helped me, I still keep a smile painted on my face, no one can see my pain. So slowly, I’m getting better.
I’m almost there.