When I was younger, I used to be a huge pushover. It happened so fast, and so easily that I didn't even realize it. I thought I was being a good friend, I didn't realize that I was loosing myself by letting someone take advantage of me. I didn't notice until I found myself exhausted by my friendship, suddenly I was doing all these things that I didn't want to , not because I was "helping", but because I was afraid I would loose my friends.
It started with small things, chores disguised as nothing too big while she sat in her room with our other friends gossiping about what I later found out was me. It killed me. While I was busy trying to be a good friend she had been dragging my name through the mud with lies, making me either the villain or just pathetic. In the midst of being a pushover I lost myself, and became depressed. The thought that I deserved better didn't even come to mind, so I continued doing what I was doing, and things got worse.
I was in love with a boy (we'll just call him Kam) who happened to be my other best friend, and my ex. They started dating each other about a year after kam and I had broken up. My heart shattered when she kissed him the first time, only two feet away from me and a second before she announced that they were now together. It was her favorite thing to throw in my face, but I wasn't giving up on our friendship, so again I stayed. There was a lot that happened, and if I were to tell the entire story.. well I might as well write a book. The point here is that eventually I hit bottom.
I was deeply depressed. I felt empty and worthless. I wanted it all to end, but didn't know how to make it stop without loosing my friend and Kam. I started cutting, making sure that I could easily hide it without being obvious. I also started popping pills. Any pills, there was a girl at school that always had something. I never asked what they were I just took whatever I could get my hands on. Kam knew about the cutting, he did everything he could think of to try and make me stop. He didn't know about the pills that eased everything he threw at me. One night I completely lost it, in public. I remember my face being wet from tears, and my throat being sore from screaming, and all the concerned and shocked faces surrounding me, staring. I went home that night and tried to end it all, thankfully it didn't work.
Eventually, my friend and Kam's relationship ended. She made everyone we knew hate him, so I only got to see him at my house, when he would knock on my door at odd hours of the day or night and we would lay in the field and talk. I remember like yesterday, the incredibly selfish act that slapped me in that face and finally woke me up. I didn't say a word to her, I silently went home that day, and it was the last time I saw her on her terms.
I spent the next few months with Kam, finding ourselves again, and finding our happiness. I stopped cutting because it was ugly and pointless. I stopped popping pills because there is no need to numb the happiness. I learned that living is made up of little moments, and it's completely up to you to make them happy ones. That is no one else's job. Kam helped me feel human again. I am so thankful for those few months for giving me my life back, but also I am thankful for those last few months with Kam, because they were his last. We spent them together, bettering ourselves, and learning to love our pieces. His memory motivates me everyday to keep that going.