I was a sad 12 year old. I would wake up every Saturday morning at Leslie’s house with a hangover. I would just eat and eat and eat crazy amounts of food, but all I would do is throw it up later. I could go days upon not eating and the days I would just throw it up moments later. It accentually started it over my current boyfriend at the time. He would tell me I was fat and that I needed to lose weight. I did this for several years at one point I was under 100 pounds at 5 foot 6 inches. My eating disorder lead to me cutting myself with a razor blade. I would carve insult to myself on my forearm such as; worthless, ugly, discussing, and fat. I would then read them back to myself many times a day. I would hide them by wearing hundreds of bracelets, up to my elbows.

I would get ready to go partying for the second night in a row. I would get random text invites to party’s and we would go to every one of them that looked like the cops wouldn’t show up at. Leslie’s mom would drop us off then as soon as we got there we had begun to drink. Then once I was drunk enough I would begin to make out and do thing that 12 year old girls should never do with some random guy or girl. After the party we would go back to Leslie’s house and Leslie would eat as soon as we got in the door. I would normally crash on her couch but sometimes I was too drunk to make it even that far so I would sleep on the floor. On Sunday morning I would come home to an empty house. I would pull out my razor blade and set in about a foot away debating whether or not to give into temptation. I would then shower and take some sleep aids that would help me get to sleep. I would then lay in my bed and cry until they kicked then I was out. On Monday morning I get up and go to school and act as though everything was fine but really it wasn’t. I would laugh and joke around with my friends although I could never really enjoy myself. I would act as though everything were ok hoping nobody would notice they really weren’t. I would go to my grandmas after school joking and laughing trying to enjoy myself. They’d laugh and joke around with me even though they didn’t have a clue what was really going on inside my head.

Upon a certain age I had to move in with my father because of the death of my mother. He was a prejudice man and it was especially hard for me because I was struggling with my own sexuality. By this time I had overcome my poor eating disorders. But it was just the start of something new. One night my dad came home early and caught me and tiffany in the living room doing things we shouldn’t have been. He told me I was dead to him and wanted me out of his house I told him it wasn’t what it looked like and he told me he didn’t care and that he wanted me out the next day. I asked where he expected me to go. He replied and said he didn’t know and furthermore didn’t care. I quickly packed a bag with the little bit of money I had a few clothing items and the last razor blade in the cabinet. As i proceeded and walked out the door I noticed tiffany in her car waiting for me by the curb. In the car I grabbed my razor blade. Tiffany looked at me and told me no. I didn’t listen I was desperate it made me feel like I had relief.

Many years later I met what it thought was going to be the love of my life. Derek and I had had my first chilled at only the age of 18. Where Derek had been 26. I thought we were perfect for each other. I thought that with two kids life would be easier but it was only harder all I wanted to do was cut myself; so that’s what I did. Derek had found me in the bathroom when carving loser into my flesh. He then grabbed me by the back of my head, spun me around and started beating me. Within a few short seconds I had dropped the razor blade and cut my leg.

The next morning I woke up to severe pain and my leg was black and blue all around except were I had cut it. There it was bright red I thought that maybe I should go to the hospital but then I wondered what they would do if they see the insults on my arms. I was about to screw up and spend 6 months in rehab. I wasn’t about to leave my children; I loved them but I couldn’t stand this pain. I went in the bathroom cut it open and tried to clean it. But that wasn’t working I had just made it worse. The blood was going everywhere I knew I had to stop it somehow. I had already begun to feel dizzy from the blood loss. I then heard Derek wake up and come in the bathroom. He had our youngest, Emily, with him I couldn’t stand to have Emily see her mother this way. I immediately stood up and began to walk out the blood was going all over the floor I couldn’t help it I knew I was going to die. I just prayed Emily or Jace wouldn’t see me. So I tried to go outside I thought what better place to die than nature if nothing else my neighbors would find me and call for help but I knew I had to hurry.

That afternoon I was gone I had made it this far and I guess I was proud of myself for making two beautiful children but on the other hand I was disappointed that I had to leave them and didn’t get to be a part of them growing up. I was also disappointed because I had met someone who treated the dust bunny’s better than he treated me. I was regretful that I let my cutting addiction get the best of me I knew had to be done that afternoon before I passed I was lying in the middle of the road there was a truck coming one way and a car coming the other I knew what was going to happen I was going to die they both hit me I was done I was in little bits and pieces all over the road. But the only one who stopped was God; he came down and picked up all the little pieces of me and put me back together. He looked at me and said "why Wynter." He then left me there I was now one of his angels. I now knew that I could watch over my children and watch them grow. I told myself I would love them more than I could love myself I then entered my way into Heaven

For the next few years I was in Heaven watching over my children. I was glad to see nether Emily nor had Jace begun cutting themselves as had. They were living with Derek’s mom and dad because Derek had overdosed a few months after I had passed. He had been in the intensive care unit for a week or two. He then wrote a letter telling the nurses he had pulled the plug. Later that day he was gone. I could only dream of how I should have waited to come to Heaven. I should have stayed with my kids and watched them grow but that could only be a dream.