1. My Sister's Cancer
When people ask me how I’m doing, I frequently reply that I’m simply living. It was like that even before my younger sister was diagnosed with a lymphoma. I couldn’t lie like so many others and say that I was fine because, to be honest, I wasn’t fine at all. Yet, I couldn’t understand why I was so sad: I was healthy, just like every single member of my family before cancer struck; I had loving friends, good grades at school and lots of people who loved me. Nonetheless, I wished I could die in my sleep countless times. I think the worse is that I started wishing for bad things to happen because at least then, I would’ve had a good reason to be sad. My world was tinted with blackness, the first darkening starting in the month of October of grade 9.
It was the eve of finals week. I had heard about it here and there and if I’m to be honest, curiosity played a major part in its beginning. The house was empty the first time I pressed the sharp blade of a kitchen knife along my wrists. On the evening of October 28th, 2012, I blindly started what has now become my greatest addiction. Every now and then I find myself regretting the fact that I started self-harming, especially noticing how much pain it inflicted to the people around me, but other times I’m just relieved because without it, I think I might’ve lost my mind. There was something enticing about controlling the physical pain whilst the mental one just kept assaulting me without restraint.
For many months, I kept painting my story on my body, driven by stress and self-hate. Wrists, ankles, stomach, shoulders, chest, nothing was spared.