Hatred

         I remember the first time I felt pure hate. It wasn't when I was beat up by an ex-friend while being held still by three guys and a back stabbing friend who watched, laughing while calling me "weak" and "unnatural". Then I only felt sad because I didn't want them to get in trouble. It wasn't when my dad divorced my mother and then married a beautiful woman shortly after. I only felt sorry because I could tell she was deceitful. It wasn't when a man pointed a gun at my head, demanding I tell him where dad kept his money. I only felt bad because if he shot and killed me he'd go to hell, and I don't want that to happen to someone who was only trying to help his family. I didn't care that he was doing it wrong, I just wanted to know what could drive someone to commit murder. I didn't even feel hatred when a fellow classmate of mine called me a cutter and that I should just kill myself already. I knew the truth so I didn't really care what people said.

         The first time I felt hatred was when my twin had stolen a pair of shoes from a girl to get back at her for taunting me. The police were pulled into the situation because this wasn't the first time she had done it. I was called in first. They asked me if I noticed my twin getting new stuff randomly and if I have ever seen her take something. I answered honestly. "I have noticed her getting new stuff but I don't think she stole them." I asked why,and what was going on. They simply said it was just to check.

         Later that day my twin was called in. That was when I found out she was stealing random objects from anyone who tried to say anything negative about me. I felt hatred right then. I hated myself because I caused my twin to get into trouble.

         That was also when I started to cut myself. Every single cut I put across my wrists, legs, stomach, was symbolic of everything my sister stole because of me.

         I had 321 cuts. I was dizzy when I was done. I was covered in my own blood and I was so dizzy. That was punishment. I caused my sister pain and because of that I needed to make amends. I got into the shower and watched my blood mixing with the water, making it tainted, and swirl down the drain.

         I hid my punishment well. No one ever knew. I felt so empty. I was so angry at myself. How could I have gotten my sister in trouble? I cried every night, feeling nothing but guilt for being so selfish. I went about my days not trying to blend in with the crowd. My sister silently protected me from what people were saying about me. She never blamed me even after she got in trouble. I vowed I would fit in just for her. I never wanted my sister to steal again because of me. That was when I became "popular" in everyone's eyes.

         It was all fake. They weren't my friends they were  pawns in my game. The more who loved me, the fewer who hated me. As soon as no one could say crap about me, I wouldn't hate myself right?

         I know better now. Scars cover me and they will never go away because I was so foolish to think that I was making amends for causing my beautiful twin pain. I still cry sometimes. I messed up my life because I was too young to think things through. Let me tell you something. What ever secret you have, no matter how deep you bury it, someone will always dig it out, and I promise you this. You aren't going to like who does it. Regret is going to fallow you everywhere you go, and the whole time you are regretting, you are dragging shame like a ball and chain. No one can free you but yourself, so promise me something please. Don't ever harm yourself. Don't hate yourself because you have flaws. Everyone has flaws. If you are hurting yourself, find someone like a friend, a family member, just someone you trust, and tell them. That's one mistake I wish I can undo.

         I don't care that I don't know you, I love you. ^.^

~Stay Strong