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It was a late Saturday night with a heavy rain,Jacob Dainels, a well know theif thourghout Boston,was robbing a little diomond store on the outskirts of Boston. My mom,the one who as always cared and loved me,was sucureity guard that night at Diamonds Only. By the time she could have called for help she had been bleeding out for five minutes. She died to due a nine millmeter shot into the femer and shoulder ,and that was the night that everything changed. At the time murder I was 17 about to turn 18 on june 27.
You won “ Never underestimate the pain of a person because the truth is everyone is struggling. It 's just some people hide it better than others.” - Anonymous. This is the case in the book Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson. It tells the story of Lia an 18 year old, who spirals into anorexia and cutting more so after the death of her best friend Cassie, who was bulimic.
When I was growing up, I barely ever got to see my father and brother. Lily grew up without her mother. When I was around 1 years old, my mother and father got divorced. My mother took me with her and my father kept my brother and sister. My mother told me, that my father was abusive told her and my brother and sister.
My father would come home at 6pm and I would be outside playing with my friends. He would call me in and my friends would actually say "Time for your beatin" After he beat me for something I would just run out and go play. By 8pm my mother was drunk and my father was good and angry and they would be screaming at each other. By 9pm they were holding knives at each other and there I was in the middle crying and pleading with them to stop.
There were weeks my mother would not talk to my father for a long period of time. My father would not admit his mistakes nor my mother would try to make him change his ways. Instead of facing the problems to find a solution as a
Because of his violence, I had to get others, such as the authorities, involved. Through it all, my mother displayed a love that I presently aspire to have, and my father asked for forgiveness. I hope that I could be like my father in the sense that I could recognize my failures and subsequently ask for forgiveness. My father always worked hard and provided for his family. Thus, I view the need for parents to
Cut. Until I forgot it all. The doctor of course called his operation was a success. Im technically not a threat to anyone anymore.
Every night my father called and every night my mom and three little sisters anxiously awaited by the phone in the kitchen along with my grandpa patiently waiting in his chair to talk to my dad. While everyone else waited by the phone I was always somewhere else in the house, hoping the phone never rang, so I wouldn’t have to come up with another excuse not to talk to him. I felt hatred towards my father not only for what he had done in the past, but for allowing himself to be put in jail and away from the entire family for ten days without any type of visitations only short, long distance phone calls. Every night for nine nights in a row, I listened from my room in the basement to the sounds of my sisters’ impatient voices to talk to our dad. Every night I also heard those rambling voices turn to sounds of sadness and endless hours of sobbing until the little girls cried themselves to asleep.
In freshman year, my mother divorced my father which led to him abusing me. I didn’t tell anyone for some time. I did not want sympathy. I thought it wouldn’t happen again. Soon after things got really out of control, I told my mom.
My history as a writer has been a bit of a struggle of slow development. From a young age I had a hard time with spelling and this is still a trouble area for me, even with the help of autocorrect. As I grew in age and as a writer my problematic area became not including enough nitty gritty details. My bad experiences that I recall would always involve the start of writing because I struggle with beginning paragraphs. Also, I tend to use the ending paragraph to just repeat myself, so overall my first and last paragraphs are usually shit.
After a year my father joined us in Maryland; I thought we would be a real family, but everything was exactly the same as before. Four years later I got to see my dad any time I wanted, but this turned out to be a living nightmare. My dad was unemployed. Everything went downhill because my father's butt never left the sofa, the TV never turned off, he never did chores unless my mom begged, and even if he said "yes" he would push them off onto my siblings and I. My mom finally 'hit her whits end' a year later and kicked him out; my father retreated to his hometown in Vermont.
My father would fly into fits of rage, threatening physical abuse, swearing and calling me names, shaming me and leaving me to feel like an absolute failure. Eventually, I became desensitized to the physical pain, but his words have haunted me, like an echo, throughout my life. Being an only child, with both parents working full time, I was home alone a lot. When I was 11, I was molested by an older white man, who was our neighbor. Scared and confused about what had just happened, I thought it was somehow my fault.
When I was in the eighth grade, I was presented with a challenge unlike any other that I had faced up until that point. I was forced to make a difficult decision for which there was no way I could’ve been adequately prepared. It all started when my friend confided in me and a couple of our friends that she had been self-harming. This confession caught me completely by surprise. Hearing that the person I thought was always so bubbly and positive was struggling with problems severe enough that she would turn to harming herself was something I was completely shocked to hear.
From ages 10-12 i started cutting i just felt that when i cut it releases the pain from my life. i had friends that made my childhood better yes i did, but i forgot about them soon enough. my best friend was Ashley, she just made me smile everyday, the most surprising thing for me is that Ashley was beautiful like a model, she actually was a child model for a store and i was always there when she was on her photo shoots, we wanted to do it together but they said they had enough kid models but i didn't belive that, they didn't need an ugly chubby child like me, i still just kept cheering for Ashley every time.
I would talk in class but was not able to allow myself to create new friendships. Eventually I began making friends, but they did not bring me the same feelings of joy the others had, so I never allowed myself to be any closer to anyone. I would often spend the lunch period hiding in a bathroom stall crying, not because people had been mean to me or I had problems at home, I just felt so deeply unhappy with myself that I did not know how to deal with it. The sadness was then accompanied by numbness, and I finally thought of a way to deal with it. I started inflicting physical pain upon myself as a way to distract from the emotional turmoil I had been in for so long-- and it worked.