I am only 17, but I'm already sick of life...
I was forced to grow up quickly as a little child. I could only see my parents for 2 hours on a Sunday. They spent the rest of the week working. They've been working hard to support their family. Because they emigrated from Korea they had to start from scratch. So they worked 17 hours a day. I had to be the parent to my younger brothers because they couldn't take care of themselves. I couldn't depend on my parents and I became very independent.
I moved into a nicer house when I was nine; it was a nice upgrade compared to the derelict apartment I had lived in. I spent the next four years depressed. I hated talking to people, and I hated socializing. I used to go for days not saying a word. My life was hell. I hated everyone, antagonized by their phoniness. I was a very bad insomniac. I was bulimic. I was suicidal. I hated myself. I hated everything. Nothing could make me smile. I was messed up in the head. I wore many rubber bands on my wrist. When I was bored, I started to snap them on my wrist til they turned red. I couldn't cut myself because I was afraid of being interrogated. When I didn't want to injure myself, I spent the rest of the time doing all of my homework. I wanted good grades. I was so shallow. I just wanted attention from my parents, and the only way I could get it was by good grades.
In 7th grade I met the three most wonderful friends ever. This was the turning point in my life; it instigated a desire to change. I was a fake. I only wanted to react in the way that would please my friends. My lonely life has made me an excellent observer. I watched quietly, and learned to use these skills. I thought I was happy. I thought I was out of that rut. I thought that the horrible times were over. My parents got a new job, and they worked hours that were reasonable. I was able to see them everyday. Life was finally good. Or so I thought. I hated my parents. They did not help, they made my problems worse. I was degraded and treated like an animal. My grades were not on par with the "Asian standard." I didn't care. They verbally abused me. They physically abused my. They mentally abused me. I couldn't look at a mirror without wanting to cry. The darkest corners were my solitude. I've cried fifteen thousand tears. And I told myself that I couldn't cry anymore. That they shouldn't get to me.
I finally hit high school. Things were turning around. Life wasn't so lonely. I had friends (the very same ones from middle school), and my family didn't matter. They could say what they wanted to because I wasn't going to care. My grades were slipping worse than ever. I just wanted to hang out. I went crazy. I eventually got caught stealing, and brought shame unto my family. I hated myself even more then. Nothing could turn me around. Until Junior year.
I was fixing up the torn relationships. I became more garrulous. I loved to make friends, in fact I was very good at making them. I fixed up my relationships with even my parents. My mom woke up early every morning to pack me a lunch. I thought I could finally depend on my parents and become a kid again. SAT's were right around the corner. I studied hard for them. I took two AP classes and did excellently on them. Things were going spectacularly. I loved life. I was happy. My friends were there for me. I loved to be involved in drama. Everyone relied on me. I was there for them. And they were there for me.
But things have been going downhill now. My grandpa recently died of colon cancer. Although colon cancer was supposed to be a relatively tame cancer, compared to other types of cancers, it took a heavy toll on him. He was struggling for a long time. He could barely eat on the days he had strength. It was painful to hear about it. What hurt more was that I couldn't go be with him. He was in Korea. What hurts is that I only have one memory of him. He was drinking an entire bottle of hard liquor a day. He begged me to stay at his house for one day but I refused because I did not like the stench of alcohol permeating throughout his house. I regretted that decision.
SAT prep classes have been taking a toll on me. I have been going to them every Saturday for 7 1/2 hours since August. They were stressing me out, but I couldn't do anything but learn to deal with it. Homework has been piling up on me. My grades have been frustrating me. Even though I desire straight A's more than anything else, they are almost impossible. I My SAT scores aren't all that great. It has made me feel stupid. My friends don't understand what it feels like to have the pressure of studying. They'd rather go out and play. I can't go anywhere anymore. I can't even go to prom because of SATs. There are days when I have to stay up til 3 doing homework.
My parents have hit a rut in work. They have to work longer hours. They have no time anymore. My peaceful lifestyle has been thrown into more turbulence. When they come home, I get yelled at. They throw things at me. They call me degrading names. They lower my self-confidence. I feel ugly and horrible because of what they say to me. They're slowly disappearing from my life again. I was so used to being reliant on them, but now I must be independent again. Why is it so hard? I started crying again. I used to be so good at being independent. My name even means independent, but it has faded away...
They stress me out. My parents need me to start driving, and they pressure me whenever I'm in the car. The stress is intense. I find myself holding my breath whenever I drive. I love driving, but not with my parents. The stress to drive just builds, one after another.
Today was the final straw. Although I turned in the original coppy of an essay, my teacher claimed that she didn't get it.
"There's no use arguing with a teacher. I know you didn't turn it in."
I ran out crying. I couldn't handle the pressure anymore. Driving, SATs, homework, insomnia, parents....it was all too much. I finally broke down crying in front of my friends. I went home, and sat there crying. My life is honeysuckle. I'm still suffering from bulimia and I have seasonal affective disorder. I have low self-esteem. I am so lonely. My friends have started to hate me. They think I prattle too much about college. They don't care nearly as much as I do. They procrastinate and get F's. I try hard, but it's hard. I feel like an outcast. I hate my life right now. I just want someone to talk to. I need someone to talk to. What I wouldn't give for someone to talk to...
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