Everyone always says to hold out until the end. That when you’re trying to help someone that doesn’t want it, to stick by their side no matter what and one day when everything is better they’ll thank you and it’ll all have been worth it. But what if it never gets better? What if you lose sight of yourself while you were trying to help them find their own reflection?
One of my best friends had found me after I slit my wrist the first time I tried and helped he me get through everything. Only a few months later he turned on me. He told everyone about how I am a suicidal emo bitch. A group was put together after that. It was called the “Anti-Britton group”. I was bullied so much. I couldn’t post anything online without it being trolled or without getting messages from one of the members. I still get random messages from some of them. I was fourteen when this first started. Whenever I would go out they would find out where and pick on me there. I finally just gave up. I stayed home most of the time and then finally ran away from home. I needed to get out. I needed it all to stop. I had promised my best friend that betrayed me I wouldn’t ever try to kill myself again so this was my only option it seemed. I stayed gone for a night then my parents tracked me down. My parents then decided I was going to see a counselor about everything. Somehow the group found out about that. To this day I have no idea how. I was then the girl with numerous problems that would probably turn into a serial killer. I had to delete a few tumblrs, make a new facebook, and delete my instagram. I did all of this just because of a group of people. What I think made it worse was that I used to be friends with every person in that group. I never did anything to them. I just stopped hanging out with them because they would just sit there and talk about other people. That isn’t me. That won’t ever be me. I have talked to my best friend that betrayed me a few times since that ordeal started. Sadly, it always made it worse. It seemed like immediately after we would get off the phone I would get messages from members of the group. I stopped talking to him for good after I realized that. That’s when I decided I didn’t need to keep a promise to someone that hurt me this badly. I attempted to kill myself again. I just wanted it all to go away. The people in the group would get what they wanted. “Go kill yourself, you’re just a waste of space anyway. No one wants you around. You are such an ugly bitch, just die already.” I was just going to do what they wanted. Maybe it would make them realize what sort of impact they were really having on me. Maybe this would stop them from ever doing it to anyone else. My my best friend would realize what he did to me. I didn’t die that night. I slit my wrists and took a shit ton of pills but I ended up making myself throw up and I bandaged my wrists.
Ultimately, I decided I wouldn’t make those people feel awful about what that had done. What THEY had driven me to do. I may have wanted to die, but I didn’t want them to feel the impact of it all. I may have, and still do to this day, hate each and every member of that group, but I could never make anyway feel that way. In a way I suppose I forgive them now. Even after everything they did to me, and still attempt to do, I forgive them.