My secrets

by Steph
(Houston, TX, USA)

I'm Steph. I'm 13. The first time I thought of suicide, I was 9. A year later, the thought came again. At 11, suicide was all I thought about. I went hiking on family vacations, tried to enjoy it, but always ended up looking over the edge, trying to calculate if the fall would kill me, or just injure me. As you can tell, I never jumped.

That was the year I met my best friend, who knew nothing of this. The only problem was, I saw her only at church, since she was homeschooled. Seventh grade rolled around, and I tried to get closer to God. I did for a while, but then the thoughts came back.

My mom has chronic pancreatitis. She's in the hospital every couple of months. Besides that, she works all the time. I hardly got to see her, as she was getting her master's degree as well. One day, my mom went into the hospital. I was upset, and began to cut myself.

Then the summer of 08. I was almost 13, and my best guy friend had become my boyfriend. (I know, early right?) I hid it from him. Saying it was a cat when he finally noticed. But little did I know that his dad had abused him.

One night, he hit me, right after a big fight with his dad. this was September. Of course, I broke up with him. But guilt made me take him back. My black eye wasn't easily hidden. When he hit me again, he told me it was because he loved me. That night, I cut myself. It felt so good, and all my pain went away. For the moment. But I had to keep doing it.

Finally, I broke up with him for good. He had kissed my friend. He had never kissed me. And I kept cutting. No one else mattered. But I was a great actress. No one suspected anything. Christmas eve...my sweater didn't cover my wrists. I tried so hard to hide them. But my parents saw. I tried to stop after that. I told them I did. I lasted a couple of days.

Then my great-grandma died. The day after Christmas. She had been my favorite family member. Now she was gone. I had no one to talk to. I continued to cut.

I knew it was wrong. I knew I needed to stop. Last week, i did the hardest thing I've ever done. I told my youth pastor's wife. But since then, she hasn't seemed to care. She said she'd call...my phone hasn't rang.

I have a new boyfriend now. He's better. He loves me for me. I just don't know if I love him.
Two days ago, new marks appeared. I'm trying to stop, but it feels like no one really cares. like they hear it, then they react. Then they forget.

I know I have to stop...but I just cant...i need help.