FicWad

Chapter 1

I guess I will start when my invisible world really came apparent to me. I was young, well I still am young, but I was younger. I was 12 and it was winter of my 7th grade year, I can look back at that year and find good and bad things. That summer something happened, I know it shouldn’t be that big of a deal, because it isn’t that bad compared to other things. My parents sat my siblings and I down and told us that they were getting a divorce.

I obviously was sad, I got in bed and plugged in my Ipod, I tried to block out all my thoughts. I did so for such a long time, until it became too much. Those thoughts festered and mixed with others, and when I finally confronted those thoughts I found my self in my invisible world. I saw that world, I saw the fire, and I heard the screams. I finally knew why I couldn’t breathe.

That was the time when I made my first cut, which was the first time I tried to breathe. I would love to blame it on the divorce but that’s not why I did it. I was sitting there thinking to myself and I finally saw what I really am. All the years of denying it and pushing it out of my thoughts I saw it. I really looked at myself and I realized why it was I had no friends, I saw that I was never good enough, I saw what I wanted to be, and that I would never be that, I knew that it was time to give up.

I saw the blade, I held it in my hand for so long, I sat there and thought for hours on end, I sat there looking into my invisible world. I pressed in deep, I felt a single tear fall from my eyes, I sucked in deep and I could feel the air in my lunges. Then just like that it was gone. I opened my eyes and I saw the single cut with blood dripping slowly. I was calm at first, it felt so right, and the pain, the stinging, and for once I felt alive. Then came the panic. I whispered to myself “shit, shit, shit, fuck oh god fuck, what did I just do” I threw the blade in a box and shoved that box under my bed. I grabbed a paper towel and pushed it down on my skin, when it stopped bleeding all I did was pull down my sleeve.

A week went by and every minuet I told my self never again, never again. I went to class and I saw my one friend, I told her nothing, and then I moved on. I went to my next class and sat there alone, and then it was the same until I went home. I am ignored, no not ignored just not seen, there’s really nothing to me. I’m average in school, I get A’s and B’s, I don’t talk much and when I do it’s just to answer a question. For me I don’t speak unless spoken to. Every silent second I spent that week was spent saying to myself you deserve it, do it again. I tried to contradict my self but in the end I just wanted to breathe.

At the end of the week I ended up home, I was all-alone, all I could hear were the screams in my head. I reached under my bed, and I grabbed my little jeweled box, I held my little jeweled box meant for a ring, but instead it held a secret so shiny and new, my little jeweled box meant just for me, my little jeweled box that helps me cry, my little jeweled box that keeps me alive, my little jeweled box holds a secret that will kill me in time.

I opened my box and I saw my secret all shiny and clean, I picked it up gently and said, “I just want to breathe” I slid it across again and again, to many to count. I dropped the blade, I opened my eyes and I could breathe the air felt nice, and this felt right. Then the air was gone, and I couldn’t breathe, but what I know is that I got what I deserved.

I looked down in despair I saw what I did. I saw blood streaming down my arm and dripping on to my clothes and once again I said, “Never again, Never again” I am a monster I deserve to be dead, I hurt the ones around and punish them for the mistakes I have made. I deserve this I know I do, I look into my Invisible world and all I see is hate for me. I know I shouldn’t, I don’t have the right, and my life is so good with just those little mistakes. People have it so much worse and I’m over here with all that I need and I still complain like I’m gonna be dead.

If you look at my life from the outside it didn’t seem that bad I had my few very close friends, I smiled as much as I could, there were of course patchy times because of the divorce but that was it of course.

Then you come in and you see what it is really like. My brother struggling with grades and his weight, coming close to not graduating, my dad constantly yelling at him for how he behaved and his irresponsibility. Then came my mom undermining him, telling my brother that my dad is all wrong and its just pure stupidity. The yelling would start I would hide in my room and try to block out the noise. Then there was my sister, I love her to death but she is the one I get mad at the most. She undermines my mom to the point where she cries, she makes a scene so she gets what she wants, in that house its my sister who makes the decisions. Then at my dads she tries to do the same, it doesn’t work because as my father says he is always right. They scream at each other for hours and it shows no end, I try to hide and leave the room they try to make me stay and pick a side, I don’t want to decide I just want to leave. If I make it across the hall into my room, I fall to the floor struggling to get the little air I need to live, I can’t listen to them fight I hate every thing about it, but I can’t stop, because I don’t speak. Then there are my parents alone, they both do the same, they bash each other but not to each other because god forbid that they actually speak to each other. They say it to us, they tell us how the other is a bad parent, and point out all the mistakes they have made.

That is what you would see if you came in and saw what really happens, but that won’t happen because remember I don’t speak. I sit there silent pretending my life is perfect, pretending like I don’t have the scars on my skin.

That was the past and still is the present, my family hasn’t changed in the past two years that all feels like just yesterday. Some days it’s better and some days it’s worse, but no matter what I find myself pretending that, that is not my life.

I’m not gonna go and bash on my family because I love them more than anything, but like any ordinary family we have our issues. It’s not their fault I’m like this I just have no life skills. Most people can deal and handle stress and keep their life together, me on the other hand have meltdowns in my invisible world. I can’t keep my life together at every second of the day it is falling apart. I’m not picking up the pieces and putting it back together, all I do is stand there and watch my life crumble to bits. I don’t know how to be strong, I don’t know how to bend down and pick up the pieces, and I’m a complete wreck. The thing is no one would ever know.

I want to open up to someone and tell them how I feel, I want to open up to them so they can save me, I want someone to get me back up on my feet. I can’t though, I don’t know how, I can’t trust them, and I would probably just end up in an insane asylum. Some days I think that’s where I belong. But I don’t I’m not crazy just hurt, I think that if I found that one person who could understand, maybe they could help me, maybe they could save me, maybe they could love me.

I can’t afford to think like that, to believe in that false hope, there’s no one out there who could possibly understand my invisible world, there’s no one out there who could love me for who I am. I am alone and I always will be, I need to get my shitty life in place and do it all on my own. The thing is I don’t know how, and there’s a part of me that just wants to sit here and suffer.

For a long time I did just sit and suffer, there were of course my times where I thought I could do it where I thought I could get better, but something would always happen and I would come crashing down never really recovering all the way. The longest I ever really lasted was 1 month then I would realize there was no point because there was no one who really cared. I would say that after the first time I cut my life became a rollercoaster I would have good times where I would forget about my problems and just have fun with the few friends I had, although as time went on I only got worse I was down more than I was up and I had a cut a day to keep my nightmares away.

As I said before when I made my first cut I was in 7th grade, I was twelve. I hated what I was doing although at the same time I loved it. I knew that I had to stop not for someone else but for myself, although I knew I deserved it. I started off slow, I would really only cut when I had a breakdown in the real world or in my invisible world, that was about every other week. I went on like that for three or four months, just a little into summer vacation.

During that period, those three or four months I went through a cycle of emotion. First I was just sad and empty begging to breathe, then something would happen, like when my dad first moved out of the house. That was a time that was really hard for me, although it was almost two years ago it still feels like just yesterday to me. My dad would take me out looking for houses, he had to move out he was letting my mom keep the house. He wouldn’t take my sister or my brother because my sister was too lazy and my brother just didn’t want to deal with that, so I went with him. I didn’t mind looking at the houses, although it hurt inside knowing what was really happening, looking for the houses just kept me at a steady suffering rate. Then came the day when I got home from school and all his stuff was gone. We had discussed and picked a house, I just didn’t realize it would happen that fast. Then came the moment of my breakdown, he was gone, my life would now become something completely different, and everything will just be that much harder, not to mention I hadn’t even told any of my friends what was happening.

I broke down I couldn’t breathe the flames were getting closer and all I could do was sit there and try to scream. I was brought to my invisible world, I knew one way to break my self-free and get that one breath of air. I searched under my bed and found my little jeweled box, I took out my newfound toy, and I slid it across one two three. I put the blade back into my little jeweled box, which returned, right under my bed. At that point I was calm and I could breathe, I cleaned up the cuts and new they would soon become scars, everything got hidden and cleaned so no one would know, all I had to do was pull down my sleeve.

Once that feeling went away I would feel guilt for once again not stopping and not getting better, for not being successful at anything. I would wallow in my guilt for a few more days, then it would be forgotten, and I would just say never again, never again. I would get better and try not to cut, I would fight off the urge once but then when it came again and I found myself drowning in my invisible world I knew I deserved it, I knew that I would never reach the sun and the breeze, so I took my short cut even though it didn’t last long it was all that I need.

I went on like that for three or four months as I said sometimes I lasted longer sometimes I lasted shorter but no matter what I never made it to the end. In those first few months my cuts were light in fear that someone would see, my scars faded fast in three weeks my old scars would be gone and my arm just begged for more. I cut only on my left forearm because I am right handed so people could see. I covered the fading scars with make up so they wouldn’t be seen at all and on occasion someone would ask and all I would say, “Oh yeah my cat hates me.” As it became swimming season nice and hot at 80 degrees they got hard to hide so I tried hard not to cut. Then came the day, it was the end of June and summer had just started, a big fight rumbled through both houses of mine so I stumbled away and found my little jeweled box. When I opened it up I found a clean shiny blade, although it was different it was dim. I pressed it into my skin, with my normal pressure although it made no slit no blood came out. I put the blade down and said, “What do I do now?”

I stopped that what I did that day I did not breathe, all I did was loose more air but I made the decision to stop, I knew I had to before I was made to swim cause people would see the scars up to my elbows, people would notice that the multiple cuts on my arms weren’t from my cats, so I had to stop then. I threw the blade away.

I was proud at the moment I truly thought I could get myself to stop with out any help and without any love. I came to regret that decision many times in the next month. It was the end of July and my whole life had become hazy, I couldn’t think straight, I was stuck in my invisible world for so many days I really can’t remember much from that summer. That summer I was discarded… I think. I had the normal drama at home, but this time no escape; school had become my escape from home and my invisible world. When I was at school I tried to focus on my friends, but now there was no school and the only way I could escape the screaming in my house was go into my invisible world where the real world disappeared.

I was trapped there never breathing and never feeling the touch of someone else’s skin. That summer a new location was made in my invisible world.

This new place was dark, but not just dark it was so dark it hurt my eyes, all I could see was black. I had no sense of where I was I couldn’t see walls, never mind the floor. I couldn’t sit down although my legs were in pain, I had been standing there for so long that even truly they just went numb. I would wonder around in this dark place trying to find any light at all. I never did it hurt my eyes I could see nothing I was blind, I plainly could not comprehend.

This dark place was also cold; cold to the bone, although I never pined for clothes I just stood there waiting for my pain to end. When I was there I never had the sense of clothing I could feel all my skin, but I never felt bare I always felt covered. I would feel my arm, I couldn’t see so there were no scars but I could feel them, I could feel the imprints left by the blade I once pressed into my skin. At that moment I begged to have it in my hand feel the smooth surface across my skin. But I couldn’t I was trapped in this world never seeing and never breathing, I threw my blade away there’s no way to retrieve it, I’m stuck in this dank dark world.

I couldn’t see, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t cry, and I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t fall and feel the pain, I couldn’t see the blood drip from my skin, all I wanted to do was see and breathe and cry and even scream, but I couldn’t, the only way I knew how to get rid of the way I felt was gone I threw it away. I have no love, I have no one, and I have no one to save me.

It had been a month and in that month I drifted away into this new place in my head, I wanted to leave but I couldn’t I was stuck and I only knew one way to save myself.

The actual day when I broke down was in the middle of the summer, I had nothing to do I was stuck in the darkness I couldn’t feel anything but the pain form the emptiness. I didn’t want to cut because I knew that it was wrong, so instead I decided I would call a friend and see if we could hang out because maybe that would distract me from how I was feeling.

I called one friend her mother answered she was not home, I called another she couldn’t come over, I must of called like four people which is a lot saying that I didn’t have that many friends. Then I called one more person, this girl she was my friend I guess lets just call her Jane. I had met Jane in 1st grade; she soon became my best friend. What I have done for basically my whole life is find one person who kinda likes me and try and stay their friend. We were really close then the next year she found better friends so I tried to find someone new. I found someone new and then the year after that, that friend found someone better. In 3rd grade was the first real time I was unhappy, I had no friends that year at lunch no one talked to me and at recess no one played with me. I didn’t think anything of it I cried a lot that year and as time went on everything got worse. In 4th grade I had two real friends and I would follow them when they were with their friends. One of them was Jane and the other one was Becky, Becky is still currently one of my closets friends. That was the first year I was directly bullied, I would play with Becky and her friends at recess, they would constantly call me and Becky names like, “Fat, ugly, short, stupid, mean, and gross.” That basically went on everyday in 4th and 5th grade for me, but I also had Jane, Jane would ignore me during school, then after school we would hang out although that usually consisted of her telling me that she was better than me and that I didn’t deserve to be her friend. I believed them every word they said. Jane moved away at the end of 5th grade only to a different town, she said we would stay in touch and we did we would see each other every so often. Although in 6th grade I cut myself off from everyone I didn’t make any friends I was the quite weird girl. I was the girl who had to go to special ED so I must have been stupid too.

But back to the summer after 7th grade, I called Jane and asked if she wanted to come over and hang out, she replied happily with, “Um…. Let me ask my mom” then I heard her whisper to her mom, “I don’t really like her anymore and I don’t want to what do I say?” What I wanted to do was just hang up but I stayed on the line and she told me, “I really can’t today sorry”
I said, “Oh yeah its fine I understand” I smiled and hung up
That day I had wanted to cut from the start then I called all my friends and got rejected by them all, then there was Jane.

I put the phone back on the charger and walked up to my room. That walk felt like the longest walk in the world. I felt like I was dyeing I was in my invisible world and it was dark and cold and lonely and I couldn’t fucking breathe I was done with this growing pain of emptiness. I didn’t have any blades I threw them all away, so what I did was terrible but I needed to cut so badly that I went that far. I took out one of my hand mirrors and I broke it I cracked it and took out a shard of glass. I fell to the ground and started sobbing. I was crying harder than I ever had before I hurt so bad inside and I had never let it out. I tried to sit up but failed several times, when I finally stayed up I brought the glass to my skin and I pressed down hard, harder than normal. Then I did that again on my wrist, then on my thighs then on my ankles. That was the first time I made a lot of cuts.

I cried hard and just lied on the ground crying for so long just breathing, crying, and bleeding. I hadn’t felt that way in so long and it felt so good all the stinging and burning it felt real, I felt real. I finally felt alive like I was really there.

All the cuts dried and my tears dried and I once again felt empty. I stood up and saw that my clothes were covered in blood although luckily nothing got on the floor. I quickly washed my clothes and afterwards there were no stains of red. I covered up my body and just went to bed, that night I slept soundly no nightmares in my head, although that morning I woke up to screaming throughout my house. I lied in my bed and pretended to be dead.

Before I continue on, in the mist of that story I had said I was in special ED. And for that I was and still am I was worse then than I am now or I just hide it better now. I have short-term memory lose, and I know what your all think “she’s like dory from finding Nemo” and no I am not its more just if I learn something quickly I will mostly likely forget what I learned throughout the rest of the day. Now I only go to special ED twice a week but when I was in elementary school I saw a lot of people let me list the people I went to, I went to two different teachers for speech issues, two people for learning resource, one for spelling and early intervention, and to top it off I would see the school psychologist once a month. I guess I was a troubled child, but none of that ever helped with how I felt.

A word you must be thinking is “Depressed” if I had to answer truthfully to that question “Are you depressed?” I would answer yes, but I have only recently started to tell the truth. I have always been afraid of that word because if I say that I am then everything that I do and have done becomes real. When I was younger like in 6th and 7th grade I never would have thought that I was but as time went on that word was a main topic in my crazy messed up brain. The first time I really thought about depression was the summer after 7th grade, one of my friends told me to take this personality test, and what came out scared the shit out of me. It said I was severely depressed and that I should see my doctor. I kept telling my self, “Your not depressed your just a little sad it will get better in time”. It didn’t and I still tell my self that I’m not although deep down I know that I am.

I have been terrified my whole life knowing that I am depressed and that the right thing to do is get help.

But I can’t get help, I can’t afford help, and most of all I don’t deserve help.



please review my story if you think its good or bad i just want to know. And again i apologize for not having MCR in the story but later on you will see how they save Kats life.