Deleted user
I was ten the first time I felt this way, broken was the only way I could describe it, broken into millions of pieces. I felt glued back together in a little bit, but the glue was flimsy and some of the pieces were lost. So, soon enough, I felt broken again.
I was glued back together, yet again.
The next time it was this bad, I was twelve, it had been a nice two years, I didn't feel broken, I had good friends. It was good, then, I got into a toxic friendship. The girl seemed nice at first, but she wouldn't let me do anything with my other friends. At that time, I had also started to do some digging into my gender identity, when I told her, she said: "No, girl." and that was that. The toxins wore at the glue and it faded away, then I stood up for myself and said we wouldn't be friends anymore.
I was glued back together.
Now, I'm thirteen, I had been sent to a mental hospital because I was too broken for even my own parents. I came back, they thought they had glued me back together, they were wrong. I think the hospital ran out of glue long before I came there.
I was suffering in silence, I wasn't speaking, wasn't eating, but I was doing okay in school and that's all that mattered to my parents.
Then, when everything was calm, my mother had an outburst, told me I was worthless, horrible, a bad person. She said "You can leave and I can help you pack."
My story will continue, but now, I'm trying to find a way to live.
