I don't really know how to start this, but whatever. On Twitter I've shared parts of my life and my struggles, but only fragments. I feel like if I shared my story, I might make someone not feel alone. Growing up I was always alone, my dad left when I was three, my mom was always at work. I was always with a babysitter or a family member. In school I had no friends, no one to sit with at snack time or at lunch. No one liked me. When I was in third grade, I started getting bullied. I was called names like loser, weirdo, ect. I started to be "sick" everyday so I didn't have to go. In 5th grade I was getting called a faggot and gay almost everyday. I never understood why at that age I was being called those things. I almost never went to school at that point. Once middle school came around I was cutting myself and never went anywhere. I was being bullied so bad at school I didn't want to see anyone, I was also being raped at home by a friend of my sisters who used to come over to "hang out with me". He used to get me really drunk or some weed with me, then beat me up until I let him do what he wanted. I was only 11 years old, he did this until I was 13 or 14. I overdosed once on pills when I was with him once and he chipped one of my teeth. Around 12 or 13 I started doing pills, weed, alcohol everyday to the point of just passing out where I was. I was out all over town getting into trouble, doing drugs, drinking, you name it. I started getting arrested and becoming a problem, so the country did what it thought was best; placed me in a detention center and then treatment. I was placed in detention centers for around a year, and I was in treatment for another two and a half. I never saw my family, no one every called, I was alone. I was battling myself in every way imaginable. I hated my weight, I hated the thought that I could be gay, I hated everything about myself. I stopped eating for months, I lost 50 pounds. I still struggle with anorexia today. It took me a long time to find out who I was, but when I did. I felt so relieved to finally understand myself a little more. I was released from treatment when I was 16 years old and was placed to live with my father. I don't have a good relationship with him. I never saw him growing up, only saw him once or twice a year and he didn't remember my birthday. I started a new school. I had no friends, people told me to kill myself everyday. They told me over the phone on blocked calls, in person and on Facebook. I started smoking weed again, cutting and I was eating very little. I honestly wanted to kill myself everyday, but I couldn't do it. My dad eventually made me move for my sophomore year of highschool to a new town. I met Emma at this school. She became my best friend right away. Summer before senior year I started battling severe depression and bi polar disorder. I began doing crystal meth, synthetics, weed, liquor. Anything I could get my hands on to make myself feel better. I graduated school by doing credit packets and a lot of Adderal to get my work done. Once I graduated I got a job. I started spending all my money on drugs. A lot of drugs. I never had enough weed or shrooms or this or that. It was never enough, so I slowed down. I made myself a promise to only smoke weed by myself at night before bed for my insomnia and eating. In November I got kicked out of my dad's house because him and my step mom didn't want to be parents anymore. That's literally what they told me. I came back to my hometown to live with my mom and sister to get myself together. I got a halfway decent job, started saving money, everything. Until a month ago, it went back to the same pattern. Spending all my money on drugs and alcohol, never sleeping or eating, and trying new drugs. I always told myself I would never do a drug that requires a needle or snorting, until I was faced with free cocaine. I was a bottle of vodka and 200$ of weed in and said "why not?". I snorted two really big lines of it and kept on drinking and smoking. I don't remember anything from that night, besides calling Emma and telling her what I did. I always call her when I do hardcore drugs because she doesn't get mad at me, she listens to me and let's me babble or talk about how bad I feel. I'm starting from square one again, trying to save money and stop using drugs again. I know I can do better this time. I hope I can. I'm sorry if this is a bunch of rambling and sounds like bullshit. I just felt like sharing my story and on going struggles. #story