Out of Control

          I guess I left off when my life got out of control in the last chapter. People say they that life will get better. The question I ask myself everyday is when will it get better? Will it ever get any better sometime soon?
         When I started cutting I did small things nothing major but it doesn't justify what I did to myself. If anyone who reads this self injures I hope this at least helps maybe a little. Just in case someone who reads this self injures I will not talk about what tools I use to hurt myself as I refuse to encourage people or help others do it. If someone did read this and started self injuring I would blame myself in every way possible. But back to the what I started saying before I got into that.
         I have no physical scars from what I did to myself. I am not proud of what I did. Its the complete opposite to be honest. I hate myself for what I did. I had no other way to cope though. I tried almost everything: reading, writing. The scars I have are all emotional and mental but it does not make it any better. In my mind those type of scars are even worse because they are scars nobody can see them. They are all inside of me. No marks for people to see. No emotions to show from them as I tend to pretend everything is okay when it is not okay at all. That makes life so much damn easier for me. People ask if I am okay. My answer is that I am fine. What a huge lie that is. I have not been okay in so long. If I were to say I am not okay. That I am suicidal at times. That I hear things at time. That I am really paranoid at times. What would they do then? People would look at me like I am crazy. I have had enough of people looking at me like that. Nobody sees the pain that I really am in. I'm invisible and at times I prefer it that way but sometimes I would like to be seen.
         The way others treated me had caused caused me to become the way I am today. People always teased me. I only had myself at school. People didn't understand who I was and am today. I may be different but I don't deserve to be treated the way I was. Teachers did not care it looked like to me. They did nothing to help the problem. As often as I turned to the teachers or counselors nothing seemed to change the way others looked at me. Just because I did not hang with other kids I got teased. I hated that. That was the main reason I started cutting. It was like nobody cared what I went through. I hated the way I looked for years. I was short for my age and still am today. I got called midget