Serena Dowley
Jul 24, 2017 · 2 min read

When I was Younger

I think when I was about 11, people assumed I was an emo because I liked different music, because I didn’t wear glitter all the time or have a boyfriend. I looked it up, I found out horrible things from it, and the bullying got worse, so I cut myself. I did it once, it barely cut my skin but it hurt I didn’t want to do it, so I stopped. I was proud for a bit.

When I was 14, I got called fat. Constantly. It hurt because I liked my body, I liked what I wore. But even my own grandmother used to remind me how many calories things were whenever I was over for dinner. So I threw my lunches away, and I stuck my toothbrush down my throat. It didn’t last long, one raspberry J2O and a scare of ruining my voice for a future singing career and I stopped out of fear.

I thought that was it; stupid child stuff. Going through puberty, getting bullied. It would all stop once I got older. Got a job, a good education, I’d make myself proud.

It didn’t.

If I had a penny for every time the thought of suicide popped in my head, I’d be out of the massive overdraft my grad job has left me due to travel. I always think “Where did I go wrong?” While everyone else is proud of me.

I don’t want to do anything harmful but the thought is constantly there. Do I need a change or therapy? Because every time I’ve brought the subject up it’s been brushed off carelessly. Is that why I needed a blog? Because on here, I can just say it.

I consider suicide.

I’ve never done anything about these thoughts, but they never leave my mind. They’re always there; they’ve become part of my routine. Maybe I will be like this forever, maybe help will take me seriously, maybe it will progress, I don’t know.

But for now, I’m afraid.

Serena Dowley

Written by

21 Year old English and Professional Writing Graduate trying to figure out what I want to do now