back when i was younger, my parents never loved me. nor did my own brother... and they still dont love me thats the bad part but anyways. when i was about- 2 years old when i got in trouble my dad would hit me... and he would kick, and punch, and slap, and choke me. i didnt like it. so when i was 5 and he kept doing it i almost tried to commit suicide because i was all bruised up and i felt alone. though yes i didnt try to commit because i thought it would hurt, so instead i banged my head against a wall alot until my forehead started to bleed and fell asleep. when i was 8-9 i was hit with every single thing you can imagine. baseball bat, pots and pans, spoons, METAL baseball bats, tenis raquets, bowls, metal bowls, rubber, a tire, a gas can. hit with anything you can imagine, but i kept on living. somehow i kept trying not to want to not to kill myself so many times i cried myself to sleep every night.

everytime, everyday, i would get in trouble, and they would bring out the belt, whip me on the *** with it alot then my dad would do his usual beat the living day out of me. enough to where i could barely move. or he would start with that first then they'd bring the belt. 13 years old. i've had enough at this point. i ate my meds like candy and felt nothing. no f***ing side effects or od effects. nothing worked. i had a gun in my hand from an abandoned car i found but i couldnt pull the trigger. i wanted to bad to kill myself it wasn't funny. my family only knows of 1 suicide attempt because my brother caught me swallowing pills and cutting myself small cuts on my wrist to my shoulder blade. i couldnt take it anymore and this attempt was recent. but i hid the gun in a safe place and check up on it to this day. now i smoke weed and eat pills like candy to make me sleep, help with being high af at school so im not annoying everyone i see by them looking at me, and to help with my depression...

and i got too high earlier and- kinda did some stupid shit...

im sorry...