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Perfectly normal

I know there's something wrong with me, I'm different, I'm not normal, but for everyone who doesn't know the real me, not the fake one that most people knows, I'm perfect. Perfect grades, perfect family, perfect hair, perfect clothes. But the reality is that underneath my clothes, I have scars; behind my smile, there are tears and inside of me everything feels like it was broken.

It's been 5 months since I last cut myself and I'm writing this story because yesterday I talked to my boyfriend, he knows everything about my past, and how difficult it is for me to talk about it; the whole time we were talking I was crying, I don't want to remember, I wish I could forget, he asked me why? Why did everything happened? The only answer I could give him was: because I hate myself, I still do.

Everything started when I was in primary school, I was this extreme obese child, that had perfect grades, it didn't matter to me that much, because I still had friends, and I got good grades. My weight became an issue in sixth grade, when I was at a family reunion and I heard a few of my aunts feeling sorry for me, saying that I was embarrassing the family. My family has always been very concerned about looks, the things they've done, silicon implants, lipos, nose jobs and hair extensions to name a few, so I was never really accepted because I was different, I was fat.

I was now in high school and I was only 13, that was when I wanted to change who I was, so I thought the best thing I could do, for people to appreciate me and like me was to be thin, so I stopped eating, first it was reducing my food intake, then it was eating nothing at all, I lost about 50 pounds in one year and I felt happy, I was so thin, and still had my good grades, but I couldn't see the reality, I was dying, bones were poking out, I had insomnia, was always tired, my hair was falling. My mother found out about my problem and got me admitted at a hospital for treating my eating disorder. That was when all the fighting began, I shut myself out from the world, I hated my mother for making me gain weight.

The first time I cut myself was when I was 15, I had a huge fight with my mother and then I ran into my room and slammed the door, I was so desperate that I just grabbed some scissors and pressed them against my wrist, suddenly everything felt fine, all the hatred and everything I was feeling inside went away.

As the years passed I keep cutting myself on and off, I became a very outgoing teen, but inside I still felt i was dying, I got into "normal things" for that age, drinking, smoking... he thing was that I still hated myself and my body, the only things I could control was my grades, my eating disorder was almost gone, but the thoughts weren't. At 16 after being rejected by a boy for being "too fat" I tried to commit suicide by taking some pills.

Finally I got out of high school and got accepted in the best university of the country, I have become a med student, finally, what I had always wished for but it wasn't enough, that year I got so depressed that I lost two classes, the first time in my life that I was failing something academic. I punished myself constantly, by scratching or making small cuts on my wrists. The the worst part came, I met some "friends" and my life suddenly was out of control, I was drinking and smoking almost everyday and the cutting got worst.

A lot of things made that year terrible, suddenly I was cutting everyday, I spent most of my time crying, I was cutting my wrists and my thighs now, and I had also started throwing up food. But thankfully that didn't last long, my mother found out about my cutting and I got admitted into a hospital once again, this time for depression, cutting and drinking, I was two weeks there.

I had to start to take medication for depression, a mood disorder a was later diagnosed with and insomnia, also I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, and and addictive personality, after I got out of the hospital I cut a few more times, always lines, but then it stopped, I think the medication helped.

There are some days when I think about my past and I wish to forget, because i had to go through hard times, always looking for perfection and trying to be normal, I just wanted to be like everyone else, but most people doesn't understand, and would judge me, so I keep everything for me and I go out to the world with a mask.

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submitted by: Anonymous
on: 22 Feb. 2007
in Ritual

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