:Warning: Could be triggering!!!

I love you guys, and I’m sorry. I had no right to put you in this position. Your time would be better saved for someone who appreciated the hard work you’ve put into keeping me here. I truly am grateful to know that at least someone cared enough to save me from my mother, but no one can save me from myself. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, don’t waste your time on me. I’m not worth it. I cause grief everywhere I go. I’m an insensitive bitch. All I ever do is destroy everything that people try to build up for me. I’ve tried to make things better. I’ve tried to make it seem like I care, but no matter how hard I try, I still can’t bring myself to care enough to use the gifts that you all have given me. It’s not fair to you, and I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. Just move on with your lives. You don’t need me around. You all complain about Gabby being bad about not appreciating the things that are done for her, I’m the one who is really bad. I don’t deserve to live a good life like this. All I do is piss away everything that is given to me. I’m sorry that you even had to see this side of me. I had hoped that I would make it without having to say all of these things; without having to face myself. I’m so selfish. All I ever think about is myself. I’m so sorry that you all went to all of this trouble for me, but, please, spare yourselves, don’t bother with me anymore. My life should have stayed the way it was. At least then I was getting what I really deserved. I’m so sorry, but I just want you to know that I do love you. That is all I’m capable of. It’s all I have to give in return for your pain. I’m sorry.

I love you,

Brooke

I wrote this on November 17, 2007. I had just had a huge fight with my aunt that I had been living with. My grades had been kind of crappy at the time, and my aunt was angry with me for not trying hard enough. I was trying, sort of, I was dealing with so much at the time that school and homework kind of took a back seat to everything else. I was fighting a losing battle against cutting and alcohol, and I was losing because I was in a severe depression. I was broken hearted, and I felt like I didn’t really have a home. Yes, I lived in a house where people cared about me, but I didn’t feel like it was my home. There are only two things in this life that I’ve ever wanted, that I’ve ever begged and pleaded God for: to have a family and to have a home. At the moment, my “family” wasn’t filling either of those roles too well, and I couldn’t do anything about my life, accept to end it, so I scrounged up the only pills I could find and downed all of them. I wasn’t sure it was enough to kill me, but I certainly hoped it would do the job. Fortunately, as you can tell, I’m still alive. I didn’t take enough pills to kill me, but I couldn’t even get up for hours and when I did my eyes were bugged out of my head trying to stay open. I had the shakes for weeks after that. I had taken 17 Tylenol pms. Now, I know that may not be much to some people, but you have to understand, one Tylenol, no only half a Tylenol can make me pass out cold. There’s something in it that I’m highly sensitive to, and that’s why I took it. After I had taken the pills I sat down and wrote that note. I was so utterly broken inside that I couldn’t even function properly. I had no one. I was alone, and had to fight alone. No one even noticed that I had tried to kill myself, even though there were at least two or more people downstairs. They never even checked. To this day the only people that know is me, my husband, a few suspicious friends, and now you, whoever you are.

I was depressed and suicidal dealing with cutting, alcoholism, the need to get high, and to top it off PTSD, and suffered alone. No matter how loud my actions screamed, no one came to my rescue, even though I so desperately wanted it. After a few years things finally got better, but I’m still haunted by these things, and I felt that I needed to get it out because to this day, I still shut myself off from people, and I have trouble just opening my mouth and talking. I’m much better at writing because I don’t actually have to say the things that are on my mind.

So yeah, there it is. Just a piece of the puzzle that is my life.