The things that hurt.
I wasn't always broken. At one time I was happy. I thought nobody was gonna ever die. And I wasn't gonna be hurt but that was a fairy tail which I believed until 3rd grade. Their were rumors spread that I didn't take showers and had lice which were lies. I had a rough home life, fights, abuse. School was the one escape I had. Then it stopped being. I had a nice friend I met then she was the only person I told about my home life. I was always in trouble for little reasons. If I fought with my siblings. I cried all of the time. Then in sixth grade my old stepdad went to jail. But that didn't stop all things. I developed depression, anxiety, and PTSD. My dreams haunted me until I told my mom some of the abuse I endured. I talked about it more and more it helped a-lot. Still had the nightmares. My depression got the best of me in 8th grade. I was bullied and it was so many people. I was playing sick. Went to mental hospitals nothing had worked. I went to a short term rtf because of my mental health it was the one thing that worked. Till this day I still have bad days and good days. But I learned to cope with it. I lost my brother who lost his life because of his mental heath. I promised myself I wouldn't end up like him. And when I get older I wanna help others who struggled with some of things I have. We all have our struggles, but we caan get through it, it may be hard but it's worth the effort.