It all started 2 years ago when my parents got divorced. There was a lot of fighting because my mom had decided to move to the USA. I am originally from Bolivia. All the way in South America. Right besides Brazil.
My family had enough money to leave a good life but never in excess. My dad was having problems at his job. I'm not if what he did was even legal. I'm not even sure what he did. He was a professional soccer player once. I know not what he was afterwards. Needless to say it would be hard for him to visit me.
My parents weren't legally married. Or married at all for that matter. They just lived like it and told people they were for reputation's sake. And they had me together.
In the end it was decided that my mom would come here a month before and I would catch to her once school was over in a month.
In that time period my dad started drinking and smoking constantly. He was kind of depressed that my mom left him. He went out a lot and left me with our maid/babysitter. I remember I was reading Mockingjay throughly that time.
Our relationship fell apart. One night we had a huge fight. He kicked me softly on the legs and left my arms bruised.
He made a big deal about bringing me to my mom. There was a lot of fighting.
He finally brought me to my mom.
The first month or so, everything was fine. But happiness doesn't last. My mom and started to fight. A lot. If you have Hispanic parents, you know what it's like to get hit and slapped and sometimes scratch when your parents get exasperated with you. It is completely normal for me. We would fight because I didn't do my chores right or on time. I was still getting used to not having a maid to do all the work.
At my new school I didn't have many friends since I was still getting used to constantly speaking English, because thank god I already knew it, and I followed a bad piece of advice. I quite literally had only one friend.
I started to get anxiety and gained weight because of everything that was going on in my life.
I started reading more constantly since I didn't have cable at home but I did have wifi. And a big library at school. Plus, I was caught on the series of Unwind that my English teacher had us read. Well, she only made us read the first book.
Soon I remember that Mockingjay part one was coming out soon, so I decided to read the book in English (it makes so much more sense than Spanish). I looked it up here on wattpad because I found the actual book here the first time. It's been erased now, though. I didn't find the English version but I came across to what I now know is a fanfic. I had no idea those were a thing back then. I had never been a fangirl. The book was Being in Love With You by MidnightSnow1  it is an everlark story. I had always liked together. And loved the fanfic. I actually thought it was written by Suzanne Collins herself. I soon started learning more about fanfic sand looked for more. I learned about ships and feels and all a fangirl needs to know. I was a fangirl by the time Mockingjay part one was out.
My life kept changing but it didn't get better. I fought more with my mom. I lost communication with my dad. He completely forgot about me. And so did my friends. And family on his side. Except for my cousin Sebastian. We are like siblings.
I kept gaining weight. It reached a point where my clothes didn't fit me anymore.
Summer was good. I was CIT in a summer camp.
This year was kind of better. I'm over my anxiety. I don't eat when an attack comes anymore. I made a nice group of friends where there is one other fangirl whose story I might share, though she doesn't have a wattpad account. I lost a bunch of weight. I'm almost back in shape. It seem all good, right?
No. It's not all good. I'm not appreciated. Never. Not at home or school. And to my mom the things I do are never right. I help her in anyway I can. But she always rubs on my face that she is the one that takes care of me and pays for what I eat. She treats me like if I were a useless obese child. And let's not forget she's a Hispanic mother with very long nails who goes to the gym. So ouch. Even if she's shorter and smaller that me, I could never bring myself to defend me.
Last night was our last fight because she thinks I just wanted to go to sleep just because I didn't feel like translating her messages with her friend. And because I couldn't think of an example to relate to something in Spanish. And because I helped her wrong. And because I'm an ungrateful brat. A bitch. I still have a bump where she hit me. Hard.
I am in fact depressed. I don't want to leave because nobody needs me. I have no purpose. Nobody would be affected by me being gone. And on top of that I have to put a happy mask at school which I have now perfected. But part of me wishes somebody would notice. But I'm invisible and part of me likes it. But the other wants to be noticed. And I've become introverted.
I've thought about cutting but I'm not brave enough to do so. I've found a solution, though. Art is my life. Any type of art. From music to acting to drawing and all their branches. Instead of cutting, I grab a pen that's not soft on the skin and draw random lines on my forearms that look like cuts. Along with the thing the voices in my head yell at me. I can still see the word DIE on my hand from this morning even after I washed it, though is hard to see. I don't think anybody notices just how REALLY depressed I am. Part of me wants someone to notice. But then again I don't. The pen hurts but doesn't not make me bleed or leaves scars. To feel completed, u hold a sharp kitchen knife to my wrists and press down. Not hard enough to cut but still hard enough to feel a small sting.
I'm not okay. Thank you for reading. Plz comment.

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Love y'all

- Valentina 💋