Pretty Much Me

This is my first blog post on here--my friend recommended it to me. She told me that it was a good way to rant about stuff, get it off your chest. That's pretty much what I need. So, my name is Francesca, I'm 14, bisexual, and without music and a select group of people I wouldn't have lived past the age of 12, and that's fact. Here's some stuff about me:



Well, I grew up in a family of four in a pretty rich neighborhood, which sounds nice to an outsider but was complete hell for me. My childhood was awful. We were bankrupt and we lost our house, so we now rent a small one, but at least its something, and I like this house. My parents were violent to each other, threatening divorce and screaming and fighting every day for hours on end. This started when I was around 6. I remember hiding in my laundry room holding some bear I had at the time crying as I heard my dad threaten divorce for the like ninth time that day. Anyway my dad wasn't home a lot because he had to go on business trips, which really sucked for me because when my dad was gone it was almost worse then when he was there. My mom hated me growing up, she always favored my older brother. She never spoke to me and always ignored me, only really acknowledging me to yell at me for something I didn't do that my brother had blamed me for or to tell me how useless I was. She was always on my brother's side. My brother would beat me up and tell me how unwanted I was every day. It didn't take long before I started believing him. When my dad was home, my brother didn't beat me up as much and my mom didn't yell at me, but she still neglected me. My dad however would at least smile at me sometimes and even though he also loved my brother best, he didn't shun me like my mom. See, they loved my brother most because he was athletic and got good grades. I got decent grades (can you expect much from an 8 year old?) but I couldn't live up to the expectations they set for me. I was around eight when they both started neglecting me completely, and that's when the depression set in. If it weren't for my aunt Tina, I can tell you I wouldn't be here right now. Every night from when the depression started, I called her up at night and just cried to her on the phone. She was my mom at the time, and really she still is. I'd go over to her house when my parents were too busy for me and I'd just sit there and cry on her shoulder until she could calm me down. She was the one who kept me sane for the next five years after that. Nothing really changed for those five years, but they just got more violent. My brother liked using me as a punching bag, and he really knows how to punch since he's taken martial arts since he was like four. My dad's even roughed me up a few times. I had no self-esteem and I absolutely hated myself for everything, I just was a huge fuck up. I pretty much ate myself into oblivion too, I was really heavy as a kid. Anyway I was 13 and I was suicidal and my depression escalated really badly. What was worse was I, admittedly, fell in love with my friend Olivia, who's bisexual/lesbian (I'm not sure which), and she broke my heart. I don't think she knows she did, I'm sure she had no idea how I felt about her, but I was crushed. So then I was planning on overdosing on any pills I could find, but my aunt found out about it. She tried to get me to rethink everything, but I was so sure at the time. It didn't help that my dad had had enough of me, to the point where he told me that he'd be happy if I just went away. THAT was the final straw. But I decided that I was gonna tell my parents, sort of as a final test. If they cared or not whether I was planning on taking my life. So I told them, and my mom was totally void of emotion. She wasn't sad, or shocked, she just looked like she didn't care. Same with my dad. I was absolutely horrified that they didn't even apologize or something, or even just SHOW any remorse or anything! I mean, who's even like that? Anyway, I went to school the next day completely distraught and my English teacher, Mr. Sorensen, noticed and took me aside. I didn't tell him much, but from the little I told him he looked so sorry for me. He told me that he was sorry and he hugged me. He was the closest thing I had to a dad, and I'd only known him for a few months. My dad had only comforted me like that like once, and that was really special to me, but it never happened ever again. So with my English teacher and my aunt in mind, along with a few friends, I just sort of drowned myself in music. I pretty much blocked everything out. I didn't care; if I didn't hear it, then I didn't have to deal with it. Music taught me a lot. I got more confidence from looking up to my heroes, listening to their advice and their songs. I can't listen to a My Chemical Romance song without feeling better now. Same with Green Day and Black Veil Brides. My reason for living really became music. It took me a long time, a VERY long time, but I started getting over my past and just kept drowning myself in music. One day, I guess my dad realized that I was a complete wreck, and he finally apologized for everything. He told me he as suicidal growing up too, and he was sorry for everything I went through. My dad became my best friend. He still is. My mom came around a lot later, after my dad forced us to go on a walk together to ''sort ourselves out'' and I told her basically she was a horrible mother and a complete bitch, etc. She started crying, and she apologized too. I can't say I exactly trust my mom, but I don't hate her anymore. Me and my brother have a better relationship now, but we still pretty much argue all the time. So now, in short: Me and my parents are okay, my brother and I are ''alright'', and my aunt will always be the person I look to, for anything I need. Once I moved on from my childhood, I got a lot less bitter and angry. I'm still depressed, but I'm no longer suicidal and I'm happier a lot now. But the depression comes back sometimes, it doesn't happen very often, but when it does it hits hard. I can barely really even talk to anyone without breaking down completely. Depression wiped every emotion from my face, I still smile and laugh, but to me, even if it's genuine, the emotions look forced, fake. I feel totally ugly and horrified to just even be myself sometimes. That's what my past made me. No matter how much I can lie to myself and say I've gotten over my past, I truly haven't, not completely. When you're suicidal at the age of nine, shit's bound to stick with you. It's like scars that never go away; they've healed, but they're still there. 


I know it's a pretty sad story, but I'm actually pretty happy. I still love going out with my friends, listening to music, dreaming, writing, joking around. I'm not all woe-is-me, I'm actually really upbeat and content. I just know more than most people about regret, and sadness, and being hopeless. Everything's better now, and I try to help out my friends who go through things like I did, so things can get better for them too. Even if we're upset, we always bring each other up, make each other smile. Music put that smile back on my face.  No matter how many times it's been said, it's true. Music saved my life. Music helped me grow out of suicide and self-loathing. I'm better than I've ever been, and it's all thanks to the people who put their music out there to help people like me, and the friends I made that thought I was worth it <3 I'll never, ever forget that.


So that's pretty much my life. Kinda deep, and a long-ass read, but that's all of it. Now you know more than 98% of the people that know me do :D Hope this means we can be friends and stuff.