Personal Narrative-Destruction

All my life I always wished I could grow up and move out of my house and do my own thing. Now I wish I was a child again, relishing in the simplicity of life when my family was whole. I revel in the beautiful memories we had, only to have them tainted by the grotesque thoughts that have taken their place. I knew that some day the addiction would overtake my mother, but I didn't think that fateful time would come so soon. I could sense the change within her instantaneously, as if the alcohol seeped into her veins, leaving her in a state of permanent intoxication. Day by day I was losing her more and more, and along with that I was beginning to lose myself. I was hanging on for dear life to someone who was just hurting me more than I could ever imagine, but I just could not let go of someone that I loved so much.

I found myself unraveling as time went on, feelings of hopelessness and loneliness beginning to take control of my life. It is sad to say that my mother was the cause of my self-destruction. In a way, my lacerations are a story of my own, acting as printed words across the canvas of my body. Other times, I look at my scars and see something else. I see a girl who was trying to cope with something horrible, something that she should never have had to live through at all. My scars show pain and suffering endured through this all, but they also show my will to keep going. They're part of my history that will always be there. I would be lying if I didn't say that this was the best and the worst thing to ever happen to me. I became a shut in, composed of my own dark thoughts, but somewhere along the way I connected with my music on a whole new level. The notes on the page weren't just little black dots anymore, they began to have their own story, one that I was able to help shape into my