Chapter 2

I haven’t slept in about two days and I don’t feel as tired as I thought I would be. I’ve been constantly reminded about my attitude towards life and everything around me, I’m getting sick of it. Sure, it’s not the best thing to be reminded of your faults and stupid mistakes you’ve made, but I guess you learn from the opinions of others. It may seem like I’m not trying to change, or as if I just don’t care, but I’ve wanted to change who I am since I was in 6^th grade.

I’ve always wanted to impress my mother, get her attention and have her be proud of me for something. But it turned out that whatever I did, didn’t make her happy. She was always on my case about grades and my friends and I never wanted to deal with it. But I somehow dealt with it and got through it, knowing that I would never get her approval for anything. I have always stuck by my dad whenever I felt sad or depressed, but in high school, that all changed.

Sophmore year, I started cutting myself because of the constant disappointment I’ve felt whenever I was around my mother. She told me that she was disappointed in me for my grades and effort in school. She never approved of most of my friends, that’s why I haven’t told her about most of them, I was tired of being criticized because of them. The cutting continued until my senior year when I realized that it had a negative impact on my relationship with my family and certain friends. People kept telling me that it was a bad thing and that I had to stop, as if I didn’t know that nor heard it before. So, after hearing it so much, I figured I had enough and stopped the cutting all together. Everything was fine, but not for long. Near the end of first semester of my senior year, I burned my upper right arm with a lighter and I didn’t know the reason why.

Not many people have asked about it, but for those who have asked, I have told them the truth. I feel ashamed of the action that happened and my mother has said it is embarrassing to show it. She says I have to wear t-shirts because I have to learn with my consequence. Which is what I’ve been doing for the most part., but it doesn’t bother me much since I mostly believe the burn never existed and that if it did exist, that

it wasn’t so much as noticeable to everyone around me. My dad doesn’t see it as such a big deal, even when he found out. Instantly, he pushed it to the past, while my mom clung onto it. Either way, I am living with the mark and it doesn’t bother me much…I see it as how it has made me stronger in the end.