Letter To Self. [[Please Comment If You Click]]

Dearest Kera,

    I have treated you horribly your whole life, and I'm sorry. When your stepfather came he gave you the pain that you thought you deserved and everyone went through - you thought it was normal, but it really wasn't. I gave you permanent scars which will never heal, and helped you achieve your fucked up mind. When you were 10 and Joe was kicked out of the house, you didn't have anyone to give you the pain you thought was well-deserved; I took on the responsibility. It began with some rough rocks, running up and down your arms, not enough to bleed but enough to sting. Enough to feel. That is what led to the blade; a vicious cycle of guilt and uncontrollable depression.

    All your life you have been put down by me, telling you you're a selfish, greedy brat; that lowered your self esteem impossibly. The worst feeling on the planet is knowing nobody, not even yourself, cares about you - That is what I told you for years, and still the idea comes back to haunt you... Luckily you know better now, and have opened your eyes to see the many wonderful people who are here for you and would do anything to see you happy.

    I made you an outcast, yes, I forced you. It wasn't an accident, a misfortune or bad luck; I did that on purpose. Sure, you're not the same as others, but that didn't make people hate you, I did. Acting weird in class and fooling around, trying to "be yourself" but I created a whole new person for you, a person who everyone would hate. You believed me for a while, stayed in that crazy person's body for years and years until you realized I had been tricking you the whole time. At least you are who you are now.

    When I was 13 I finally stopped slicing your wrists, knowing that there were better and easier ways to torture you. The blade not only hurt you but hurt your friends as well; dropping like flies. That worsened your problems with loneliness, and made you unsocial so it was harder to gain friends in the future - A problem that will be burned into your brain forever. I cut you for over 3 years, having you deal with the intense guilt and fear and anxiety of hiding those marks.

    From the fourth to seventh and even part of eighth grade, I told you that you were fat over and over again. I made you eat sweets, constantly stuffing your face with fatty foods - And then woke you up one day and showed you that you gained - Oh no - 5 pounds in one month! That was during a growth spurt, but of course I didn't slip in that part. I began to tell you that you needed to stop gaining weight, and made you stop eating altogether. The few times you did manage to sneak a few snacks, I made you throw them up as soon as I noticed, which never took very long. I knew that anorexia and bulimia would leave you in a worse place than you were in the beginning, and that is precisely why I suggested it.

    In 2008, your therapist suggested taking medication to help with your Obsessive Compulsive Disorder - Fluoxetine, generally perscribed for depression and anxiety. You took it happily, anything to make you better, not knowing it was really me fucking you up all along. As my plan went on, it managed to succeed and now you are dependent on those pills, loving them more than your own life and your favorite hobby was showing them to people and having them think you were even more of a fuck up than you really were.

    I used that medication to my advantage and had you overdose multiple times - Not enough for anybody to know, or to get you sent to the hospital, but enough to scare you. I tried to make you grateful for your life, but it never seemed to work; you weren't the type to love life after what I'd done to you. I had you take those 1-A-Day capsules 5 at a time at least, and watched you suffer in agony when you felt the pounding in your head and the nausea spread throughout your body.

    When you were barely 13, a mere week and five days after your birthday, you were introduced to alcohol. At a party where you knew not one person, complete strangers all intoxicated around you, and I couldn't help but pour some Captain Morgan's in your mouth. You were soon drunk and needed help walking, couldn't stand with your feet together or even walk straight. That one night didn't do much to you, but it lied to you and told you alcohol was harmless - It could make you drunk, but YOU wouldn't get raped or murdered or held captive by a criminal, no that would never happen to you.

    I made you stop sleeping as well, telling you dreaming is for the weak and you were meant to be strong. Slowly you developed an un-diagnosed case of mild insomnia, getting a few hours of sleep every day - then going to school, and pretty much sucking at everything you did. A quiz, listening in class, writing, even having a conversation. Of course, this is what I planned for you, but I started having a feeling I'd never obtained before - Guilt. I felt guilty looking at such a failure, knowing that I was the reason for that horrible mess over there in the corner.

    Still, I didn't stop, and reminded you of the alcohol. I took some of your mother's vodka, originally for making homemade vanilla, but that purpose was defeated when I added it to your Diet Coke. You became addicted so quickly that it was quite humorous - one drink and you needed more. I added more and more alcohol to your drinks, replenishing your mother's stock with water to make it look like none was missing. I had you get drunk one day, then another, then another - all in a row. Of course, I never hinted about the hangover. A triple hangover just for you, my dear! Let's see how you like that. Of course, you pretty much died, having your reputation permanently ruined and your brain swelling with confusion.

    At this point, I was just watching you suffer and seeing your life falling to pieces. I had you become so withdrawn that you didn't even tell your therapist anything, the person who you were supposed to trust; right now there was nobody for you to turn to. You went through life knowing if you told a single soul that things would only become worse for you, because I lived in your head, and I would know immediately if that thought merely crossed your mind.

    Still, I sincerely do not know what turned me around. It seemed to take a while, though; 13 years to understand you are not a toy... You are a beautiful human being who deserves a life, deserves a chance. It's not my duty to choose how your life goes or what you do; that is up to you, my dear. I want you to know that no matter how impossible this sounds, I love you. I love you because you put up with my shit for so long and still won't criticize me. I know you better than anybody combined with everybody does, all because of the fucking up I did for you. I was wrong when I said all those horrible things, and when I hurt you in so many ways.

    I promise never to force you to take another drink, never to scar your arms, never to stop you from eating or sleeping, never to put you down, and never to lie to you, ever again. I know I betrayed your trust and you have every reason not to believe me, but just remember that I mean what I say and in a few years' time you can look back at this and think, 'maybe she is telling the truth after all.'

          I have treated you horribly your whole life, and I'm sorry. I will leave you alone from now on, and the most amazing part is, I'm not even leaving to haunt someone else. I am leaving for good. I'll miss you, and good luck with your new life.


                                                      ~Someone You Never Knew