I don’t hate life. I don’t particularly love life love but hate isn’t a word to describe it. Hate is used for something that makes you feel sick and for the most, life does not have that effect on me. Life is good. I have a family, friends, a home, I go to a private school and I get through life quite comfortably. On a whole I’m okay. Well I rather only feel okay and I think that is because I have mastered the art of shoving my past experiences so deep within me that for most of my days, my mind believes I’m fine. I still know there are those deep rooted issues. It’s like when you’re a kid and you go to the deep end in a swimming pool and it is one of the scariest things you can do. You only sometimes want to, but when you do, you don’t stay there for long. As you get older you realise it’s not that bad and you feel comfortable to dive straight into the deepest part. It is not like that for me. As I have grown older I want to stay as far away as possible from my dark times or my issues that are at the bottom of my pool.
I don’t enjoy speaking about my feelings and emotions. In fact, I hate it. (That is where I would use the word hate.) Whenever I try, I feel like the air is being sucked out of my lungs like…show more content… Things are better. Except for last year, of course. All in one year, I lost a lifelong friend followed by the passing of my grandfather and then the death of my best friends dad - an event which changed my life forever. Seeing my best friend losing who she is, seeing a girl who means the world to me bury her father, seeing a loving wife and mother bury her husband…again, broke a part of my soul off. I was back in grade eight. I could not find a way out. Back on the bathroom floor, back awake at 3am and back with a faint red line caused by that same object. It was the year of hospitals, funerals, tears and pain that cut through me like when a bread knife cuts through bread. Slowly and roughly. It felt as the pain was pushing my back and