Goodbye, friends.

Chapter 1

I thought it best to have my last story titled, "Goodbye, friends," since my first story was, "Hello, Quibblo."

I think I owe you all the truth. I didn't want to say anything on here before because I'd be labeled as "looking for attention", but I'm deleting my account right after I write this, so why not?

Let me start off by talking about my family. I am the oldest out of nine children. My parents constantly abuse each other. They have been for as long as I can remember. And what do children do? They learn from their parents. So along with my parents, my siblings are also constantly fighting. My house is never quiet; you can always hear an argument. It usually falls to me to be the peacemaker of the family, but you can only try to fix something so many times before it's declared broken forever.

I am a terribly shy and awkward person. My mom openly calls me names such as: dumb-as/s, fat, slut, skank, bit/ch, and etc. That has made me question everything I do. I can't speak to someone without stuttering and pausing in the middle of my sentences. I can't do something as simple as painting my nails without thinking, "Is this good enough?" My personality has not attracted anyone at school. I used to have a few friends, but I pushed them away out of fear that they'd hurt me. None of them noticed I pushed them away, so that really shows how much I meant to them.

I've been fighting depression for two years. I don't cut, but I've always found excuses to hurt myself, like 'accidentally' burning myself on the stove. I'm not anorexic, yet I don't feel the need to eat, and sometimes don't eat for a whole day. Recently I declared myself bipolar. I feel sharp indifference-not caring about my life, my hygiene, anyone's feelings-, then extreme happiness, and then sudden depression all in twelve hours.

And of course, there's an older boy in all this. Before him, no one would ever sit down and listen to me pour out all of my problems. I loved him, and he me. I lost my virginity to him four months ago. Last month, he died. He has no family and the driver who hit him was a drunkie who no one recognized, so he died in a tragic car crash that mattered to no one else but me. I found out I was pregnant that very night. He stole my heart and left a baby in its place.

I went on the internet in a vain attempt to get away from all this. I created an Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr, and Quibblo, and for a while, I did get away from my life. I was truly happy here. I hid them from my parents for a whole year. I chose to trust my mother. I chose to show her my Instagram and Twitter last month, which I poured my heart into. I thought that she'd finally trust me or something. I don't really know what I was thinking when I showed her them. She went rabid. She read every post on Twitter and looked at every picture on Instagram. I put nothing offensive, obscene, or personal on there, yet she still chose to hit me and yell at me. I wasn't not allowed to go on the internet until now. I'm deleting every single thing I put on the internet so my mom can't use anything against me anymore.

I don't really expect anything to get better as I grow older. I'm good at absolutely nothing, and my grades suck. So much for that happy ending then.

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