I COULD HAVE USED THIS—WHEN I WAS 15, OR SO (THE LORD SAVED ME, ANYWAY)!
Start at the beginning.
The summer before sophomore year of high school, when I was a few months shy of 16, I broke up with my first boyfriend. I was devastated; no one ever taught me how to deal with heartbreak and the emotions attached. I had a really hard time and lashed out in a million ways. I hit on my ex-boyfriend’s best friends. I tried drugs and drinking heavily. I skipped curfew and stayed out all night driving my parents insane and worrying them half to death. I chain smoked cigarettes out of my bedroom window and cut classes. I took a secret trip to the village in New York to get a tattoo without parental consent. I shoplifted clothes and jewelry. I was spiraling out of control. On my oh so sweet sixteenth birthday I tried to kill myself. Razor to the wrist. Two deep long cuts…
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