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After my Grandfather died, My mind was cracked. Suddenly, My happy little lifestyle become one of what half the world would call... "Emo." I think the word Emo is unrespectable, and too mean.
I started failing in school. Soon, It wasn't just because of my Grandfather. I didn't know why. But soon, scars appeared on my wrists and legs. I found no other way out.
My mom didn't notice it, until one night, in the middle of a fight. I yelled,
"I want to kill myself,"
Which at the time was true. She grabbed my shoulders, and shook me with all her might. I started to cry hysterically.
"Go to your room!" She screamed. I ran, crying.
Later, that week. I was introduced to Brooke. One of the many people who helped me on my way. My counseler. Brooke lasted for about 5 months, until the help didnt.. help.
I was newly introduced to Erica. Who is my withstanding counseler. And I must say, I have improved. Going from crying each night, to leaping happily with my friends. From scars, to scarless wrists. It's a huge accomplishment.
After 2 years of this, I met a new person with my cure. My Docter. He prescribed me pills. I remember the day clearly.
"Do you want help, Hannah?" He asked me.
"Yes," I answered.
"Would a hospital help?"
At this, I looked at my mom. She was crying into her hands.
"Well, I just want to get happy again," I said stupidly. So the tension, and the thought of a Mental Hospital hung between us.
But, A month on the anti-depressants. The cuts dissapeared. The happiness returned. At first, It was a new emotion. One I had never felt in a long time. But I liked it. I got better grades in school. My mom and I don't get in as many fights.
But when I look down at my wrists, and my ankles. I see the faint imprint of what was. And, as much as I want it to go away, Im glad It's there. It's reminded me of what I was, And what I have become.