i hate not being able to be open to my parents. i was never close with them and at a very young age, they divorced only a few years after having me. in 2019, i felt as if there was no possible way for me to ever be happy. i had bad grades, my sister was toxic to me, i felt as if i were a ghost in my entire family. i don’t feel pretty, i never have. i’ve been called fat multiple times by my brother and sister which only made me close up more. (trigger warning) it got to point where i thought of different ways to off myself. each night when i went to bed, i cried myself to sleep and never told anybody about how i was feeling because i was scared of what they would say. it all began to sink in for me when i was lying in bed waiting for my dad and my stepmom to tell us all goodnight before we went to bed. except this time was different. my dad, let’s call him Johnny for example. that’s not my real dads name, but i can’t just type my dad the entire time, same with my stepmom. we can call my stepmom Karen because that’s what comes to my mind. Johnny and Karen came into my room and shut the door, they never do that. i was already out on edge. Johnny looked at me and said “you need to slow down you’re eating”. my heart broke into a thousand pieces. i was 12 years old. a 12 year old. telling a 12 year old girl to slow down their eating is horrible. never. ever. say that to any child. ever. it will stick with them forever. Karen only nodded her head in agreement. i blurred out everything else they said for the time being. i was too focused on holding back my tears. once Johnny and Karen left, i bursted into tears, burning my face into my pillow and covering my mouth with my hand to try and muffle the sounds of my crying. speed up to my 13th birthday. my mom, let’s call her Rachel. Rachel recently started this whole birthday outing thing where when me or my siblings birthday came up, Rachel would take us out to do whatever we chose to do. i decided to try and be brave and tell Rachel what Johnny and Karen told me when i was 12. all Rachel did was agree with them. my own mother even thought i should slow down my eating. the rest of the day until it was time for bed, my throat was sore from holding my tears back. now, i share a room with my toxic sister when i’m with my mom and so that night, i had to try even harder to hold in my tears. it was a hard night. (another trigger warning) i was in school when i first harmed myself. in the middle of class i did it. i used my mechanical pencil. i sharpened the led and, well, you know. i lied to my entire family that night saying i scratched my wrist on a sharp piece from the bleachers at school that day. my sister became toxic again after fixing herself in the slightest bit. she came into my room one day when i was drawing and criticized everything. my drawing, me, my room. i’m a very sensitive person and maybe i was over reacting, but when she left the room, i hurt myself once again. when i first did it, i hurt myself twice at the same time. that time, i hurt myself more than 10 times when she left my room. i then began to write little notes to myself. i would get on snapchat, take a random picture and write my feelings down, then i would just delete it all. then i began to write it all on paper. i left my notebook out one day when i went to school and my mom snooped. she does it a lot, not giving anybody any privacy whatsoever. Rachel found the notes i had written and took pictures, sending them to Johnny and Karen. i got home from shook that day and i was taken into Johnny and Karen’s bedroom. Johnny was still at work, so it was just me and Karen. Karen sat me down and began to question me about the things i wrote. i will admit, Johnny and Karen handled it extremely well. they didn’t yell once. Rachel on the other hand was a different story. i stay with my dad for a week then switch to my moms, back and forth, back and forth. i also go to religion because my mom forces me and my sibling to. me and my siblings went to my moms on Wednesday which is also religion days. i was talking with my mom in the kitchen about how i didn’t want to go because of how i was feeling. yet she still pushed me to go. i do believe in Jesus, but religion is just boring. i began to cry silently in the back of my moms car, being the only one in the back because my mom drives a Tahoe. my mom asked my why i didn’t want to go so bad, but it should have been common since. she had just found out i’ve hurt myself. any other parent wouldn’t be so rough on their child who’d done that to themselves. i told her something like “i just don’t want to go, it’s boring” and my siblings heard me crying my eyes out. my mom continued to yell at me because i didn’t want to go to religion. normally, i would’ve just shut up and went to religion, but i was going to have to speak with the priest. i know that the priest is a good guy, but i have social anxiety. bad. so i couldn’t do it without breaking into a million pieces and panicking. my brother was told to stay in the car while me and Rachel, “mom” went to talk. we were in the church parking lot when this all happened. Rachel started asking once again why i wouldn’t go inside the church. she got extremely violent with it. she never hit me. but it was violent to my emotions and all that junk. i was to the point where i was literally crying my eyes out. i’ve never cried harder in my life. i knew that Rachel had been through a lot in her life due to poor choices and drugs. she was addicted to drugs. Rachel owes me money because she took my money for drugs. i had to be like, 10 or 11 when she took my money for drugs. i understand that it’s hard to get away from, but when you have to ask your youngest kid for money to buy drugs, that’s a good sign you need to get help. no matter how much you may dread it. every time Rachel had a sit down talk, she would constantly bring up her past. saying Jesus helped her through all of it. and yeah, that may be true, but not for everybody. when Johnny and Karen talked to me about the note i had written, they only talked about themselves once. Karen talked about herself, but it was to relate to me. Karen’s dad, he ended his own life. and Karen didn’t want me to end up the same way. but Rachel never shut up about her past. she made those decisions. she used all of her own money to buy drugs when she could’ve been saving up to buy us an actual house, hell even a trailer to get us out of her moms basement. Rachel didn’t help me one bit. she only made me hurt more in that moment. i begged her to bring me back to Johnny and Rachel’s but she would not let me go. i begged and begged because i was scared. i was broken and hurt. i told Rachel that i constantly felt left out at her house and she said that she will work fix it. guess what she did? she didn’t fix it that’s for sure. and you wonder why i always talk about wanting to be able to drive. i may be 13 years old, and i may have high expectations, but i won’t be like you, mom. i do care about you. but everything you’ve ever said to me that’s hurt me will continue to stick with me. and you can’t do anything to rip it away. im 13 years old and i already see the life i want. i want to be a graphic designer. i want to live in new york city until i’m ready to settle down and grow a family of my own where i will move back to the country if i have the money for it. i want to go to college. i want to be what you never could be if it weren’t for your fiancé.

i hate not being able to be open to my parents. i was never close with them and at a very young age, they divorced only a few years after having me. in 2019, i felt as if there was no possible way for me to ever be happy. i had bad grades, my sister was toxic to me, i felt as if i were a ghost in my entire family. i don’t feel pretty, i never have. i’ve been called fat multiple times by my brother and sister which only made me close up more.(trigger warning)it got to point where i thought of different ways to off myself. each night when i went to bed, i cried myself to sleep and never told anybody about how i was feeling because i was scared of what they would say.it all began to sink in for me when i was lying in bed waiting for my dad and my stepmom to tell us all goodnight before we went to bed. except this time was different. my dad, let’s call him Johnny for example. that’s not my real dads name, but i can’t just type my dad the entire time, same with my stepmom. we can call my stepmom Karen because that’s what comes to my mind.Johnny and Karen came into my room and shut the door, they never do that. i was already out on edge. Johnny looked at me and said “you need to slow down you’re eating”. my heart broke into a thousand pieces. i was 12 years old. a 12 year old. telling a 12 year old girl to slow down their eating is horrible.  never. ever. say that to any child. ever. it will stick with them forever.Karen only nodded her head in agreement. i blurred out everything else they said for the time being. i was too focused on holding back my tears. once Johnny and Karen left, i bursted into tears, burning my face into my pillow and covering my mouth with my hand to try and muffle the sounds of my crying. speed up to my 13th birthday. my mom, let’s call her Rachel. Rachel recently started this whole birthday outing thing where when me or my siblings birthday came up, Rachel would take us out to  do whatever we chose to do. i decided to try and be brave and tell Rachel what Johnny and Karen told me when i was 12. all Rachel did was agree with them.my own mother even thought i should slow down my eating. the rest of the day until it was time for bed, my throat was sore from holding my tears back. now, i share a room with my toxic sister when i’m with my mom and so that night, i had to try even harder to hold in my tears. it was a hard night.(another trigger warning)i was in school when i first harmed myself. in the middle of class i did it. i used my mechanical pencil. i sharpened the led and, well, you know. i lied to my entire family that night saying i scratched my wrist on a sharp piece from the bleachers at school that day. my sister became toxic again after fixing herself in the slightest bit. she came into my room one day when i was drawing and criticized everything. my drawing, me, my room. i’m a very sensitive person and maybe i was over reacting, but when she left the room, i hurt myself once again. when i first did it, i hurt myself twice at the same time. that time, i hurt myself more than 10 times when she left my room. i then began to write little notes to myself. i would get on snapchat, take a random picture and write my feelings down, then i would just delete it all. then i began to write it all on paper. i left my notebook out one day when i went to school and my mom snooped. she does it a lot, not giving anybody any privacy whatsoever.Rachel found the notes i had written and took pictures, sending them to Johnny and Karen. i got home from shook that day and i was taken into Johnny and Karen’s bedroom. Johnny was still at work, so it was just me and Karen. Karen sat me down and began to question me about the things i wrote. i will admit, Johnny and Karen handled it extremely well. they didn’t yell once. Rachel on the other hand was a different story.i stay with my dad for a week then switch to my moms, back and forth, back and forth. i also go to religion because my mom forces me and my sibling to. me and my siblings went to my moms on Wednesday which is also religion days. i was talking with my mom in the kitchen about how i didn’t want to go because of how i was feeling. yet she still pushed me to go. i do believe in Jesus, but religion is just boring. i began to cry silently in the back of my moms car, being the only one in the back because my mom drives a Tahoe. my mom asked my why i didn’t want to go so bad, but it should have been common since. she had just found out i’ve hurt myself. any other parent wouldn’t be so rough on their child who’d done that to themselves.i told her something like “i just don’t want to go, it’s boring” and my siblings heard me crying my eyes out. my mom continued to yell at me because i didn’t want to go to religion. normally, i would’ve just shut up and went to religion, but i was going to have to speak with the priest. i know that the priest is a good guy, but i have social anxiety. bad. so i couldn’t do it without breaking into a million pieces and panicking.my brother was told to stay in the car while me and Rachel, “mom” went to talk. we were in the church parking lot when this all happened. Rachel started asking once again why i wouldn’t go inside the church. she got extremely violent with it. she never hit me. but it was violent to my emotions and all that junk. i was to the point where i was literally crying my eyes out. i’ve never cried harder in my life. i knew that Rachel had been through a lot in her life due to poor choices and drugs. she was addicted to drugs. Rachel owes me money because she took my money for drugs. i had to be like, 10 or 11 when she took my money for drugs. i understand that it’s hard to get away from, but when you have to ask your youngest kid for money to buy drugs, that’s a good sign you need to get help. no matter how much you may dread it.every time Rachel had a sit down talk, she would constantly bring up her past. saying Jesus helped her through all of it. and yeah, that may be true, but not for everybody. when Johnny and Karen talked to me about the note i had written, they only talked about themselves once. Karen talked about herself, but it was to relate to me. Karen’s dad, he ended his own life. and Karen didn’t want me to end up the same way.but Rachel never shut up about her past. she made those decisions. she used all of her own money to buy drugs when she could’ve been saving up to buy us an actual house, hell even a trailer to get us out of her moms basement. Rachel didn’t help me one bit. she only made me hurt more in that moment. i begged her to bring me back to Johnny and Rachel’s but she would not let me go. i begged and begged because i was scared. i was broken and hurt. i told Rachel that i constantly felt left out at her house and she said that she will work fix it. guess what she did? she didn’t fix it that’s for sure. and you wonder why i always talk about wanting to be able to drive. i may be 13 years old, and i may have high expectations, but i won’t be like you, mom. i do care about you. but everything you’ve ever said to me that’s hurt me will continue to stick with me. and you can’t do anything to rip it away. im 13 years old and i already see the life i want. i want to be a graphic designer. i want to live in new york city until i’m ready to settle down and grow a family of my own where i will move back to the country if i have the money for it. i want to go to college. i want to be what you never could be if it weren’t for your fiancé. 