When I was 6 years old I moved to Riverton, UT from France. Strange at first, I knew the minimum of English and my mother had to accompany me to school, she was my light in a world full of things that didn't make sense. Because of her I managed to pass the 2nd grade and by 3rd grade my English was almost flawless, except my accent.
In 5th grade we moved again, to Herriman, UT. Not that far but the people who had grown up knowing who I was and where I came from where gone, I had no one. My accent was still visible but it began to dim, everything did. I had to start speaking French just so I wouldn't forget it. I couldn't forget my history, that was not the plan.
In 7th grade I met a boy. . Cody McCormick. He was 17, he was a stud, he drove a mustang. Maybe I loved him superficially, well, of course I did, it was puppy love. But then he used me and that was the first time I realized I wasn't exactly 'lovable'. I was defective, I just wasn't sure why.
In 8th grade I met Michael Ryan Rentmeister. We were friends for quite a while and I loved him for being my friend, for being with me. And how I needed that love. . My best friend, Keltsy, decided to move to East High. The month she left my cell phone rang off the hook. She hated me, she absolutely wanted to destroy me. I was fat, ugly, worthless. I was labeled and I began to fit the label. I simply didn't care anymore. Michael became more and more a piece of who I was. I needed him, I need him so deeply that I gave up who I was to have him. School became second hand, second place and worthless. I began cutting, I began losing who I thought I was. Swearing was habitual, and so were the phone calls. .One day I got a voice mail and I checked it, I had to know, it now defined who I was. This one was worse, I was know a whore, a cheapskate, a good-for-nothing-piece-of-shit and being dead would serve a greater purpose then being alive. So I tried. I remember, in a somewhat blurry way, walking down the stairs with my guitar case, grabbing the knives in the kitchen and hiding them in it. I walked back to my room took them out and traced all the cuts I had made in the past, the two on my wrist are still there. I grooved them so deeply that I almost threw up. My step-brother, Aaron, walked in and just stared. He called my mother who immediately raced me to the hospital where they prescribed my mandatory 2 day stay and my anti-depressants. The kind that force Serotonin into your brain and force the happiness into you. Fake happiness I called it. Michael and I started dating after that, he told me everything and I him. He was mine, forever and always.
In 9th grade we broke up, he lived in Odgen after all. And then I met Charlie Quintana. He was dating my best friend at the time but I still loved him, and I was happy then. And then I made the High School Basketball Team. That gave me direction and purpose, and I loved my life. I loved who I was. I was now a role model. And then one game, East High. .Keltsy, to my dismay made the team at East High. As I prepared to make a shot she whispered everything she had said on the messages into my ear. I turned around and punched her so hard she was knocked out. A whole gang of girls jumped on me, hitting me back for hitting her. The ref intervened and the game was completely cancelled. We were all suspended.
In 10th grade she moved back. She apologized and tricked me into believing that she was really sorry. I finally got Charlie, I finally got what I wanted so badly and that year was going to be fantastic. Until we broke up of course. I found who I really wanted to be inside Debate, I loved it. It released everything that I had ever felt, in a constructive way. I met my new best friend there, Erin. She made me happier, she almost forced happiness from my every pore. My teacher, he was influential to say the least. He showed us all that we had something deeper inside of us. Something we should work and strive to be, and kick ass on the way (: H made my life suddenly seem conquerable. Then I made basketball again and found my family all over again. We went to state and lost by two points, devastating and I was suddenly spiraling downwards again. And then in May. . Cameron, my best friend, killed himself. I began skipping class, and even my pills didn't work. I was cutting again, I was again a loser. I lost 30 pounds that year, I went from 160 to 130. I didn't eat, ever. And I visited Cameron's grave everyday, I talked to him even. I slowly began getting better, believing that he could hear me.
Yes, I got better. Slowly.
And then I met Darrin, or rather began talking, to Darrin. He was kind of corky (he still is) but it was a good corky, the kind that made me happy. We ended up together and still are. Yes, we have our own problems but things happen and somehow he stays, he stays through it all.
But I still don't know who I am? Labels like fat, slut, ugly, whore, worthless. . defined me for years. And now I'm trying to break out of those and I'm finding that so hard, so gut wrenching, so terrifying. I still cut, I still don't always eat, I still sometimes wish I would die and just leave all this behind me but..what fun would that be?
And besides, it's taken me far to long to find this chaotic peace of mind.