This all started in June. I'd been exploring online for sometime now, and I'd started wondering if maybe I was lesbian. Really, I don't remember when I started wondering. Wait... it might've been when I started thinking about my 'boyfriends' and why I never really felt anything for them. Maybe I was dating them for the attention. Completely plausible. But I wasn't- I think my brain was deluding myself into thinking I liked them. Or maybe I just needed to answer my friends, who all wanted to know who I like.
When I told my best friend, whom I still know to do this, we related. That's when I realised I liked her. A lot. But I couldn't tell her.
I went along, telling all of my closest friends, whom I thought I could trust. I didn't, however, tell my parents. I knew they wouldn't approve of it.
Turns out though, one of my 'best friends' betrayed me, telling their very over-protective parents, who then went to my dad. My parents found out, they did not approve, saying it wasn't Christian and I'd go to hell. I don't really care.
That night was the first time I self harmed. I took a thumb tack, and started scratching myself. I have scars on my thighs that remind me of the night I hated myself most, the night I had three panic attacks.
From then, I thought I had to be myself. I knew I couldn't let society tell me who I could and couldn't be, just because of their beliefs. That wasn't fair. So, I still went as lesbian. Some people don't like being labeled by their sexual, but I sure as hell don't care. It has never really mattered to me.
A month ago, me and my best friend started dating. For five days, that is. Then my entire class, just the girls, found out that I was gay and my best friend is bi. Amazing, I know.
But that one friend that betrayed me, well, I got revenge for telling everyone. She threatened to kill me after I got her out in a game. So, I went to the coach, knowing this wouldn't end well for her. She got a week of in school suspension, which I thought was great revenge.
But it doesn't mean I am not depressed. I cut a few nights ago, the first time in months. It was worse though. I had an exacto knife, which I used to cut random shapes. (Let's just go on now)
Long story short, the cuts are healing, except for one on my thigh. It's the worse, and most noticeable. That's why I've been suffering through the heat in long pants, changing into my gym clothes in the bathroom stalls. All so I could avoid the stares of the sixth graders and fellow seventh graders. I told a good friend though, but it really didn't help. She didn't give me any advice.
Will you guys? Should I go to my parents, tell them I want to be screened for depression and anxiety, because I just want out. I want to stop being this way. Trust me, I'm not going to cut again. I won't self harm. I won't...
I promise I won't. Just give me advice.