R.I.P. to My Youth

by Jocelyn Ponce about a year ago in family

A Story of Lost Confessions

R.I.P. to My Youth

I never really imagined my youth would have played out the way it did. Although my life is not even halfway over, I have lived a life longer than my years. Additionally, things happen in the blink of an eye and one never knows if we will be here tomorrow. I am known as that goofy girl that helps everyone through their tough times. Everyone truly believes I am happy, but the truth is I am fucking depressed. This here is my confession.

I do not recall most of my childhood as I did not really have one. The parts I do remember are very hazy and negative. I remember being diagnosed with depression at the age of six because I was placed in a toxic household. I get flashbacks from my father’s domestic violence towards my mother, which was later brought onto me. My grandparents, whom we lived with, would have to go pull me out of the house as soon as they heard yelling, but those yells and those punches are actions which have scarred me forever. I would return to the household with blood everywhere and bruises all over my mother.

My father would put my mother through constant pain, which I honestly never really understood. Little did I know, that pain would change her life forever as well. My father had a whole separate family that I, unfortunately, found out about as I found condoms, pictures with the mistress, and messages on his phone. I knew before my mother found out and I never had the guts to tell her. The night she found out, she tried to take her own life. I remember her kissing me on the forehead and saying, “I’m sorry, I love you.” I was pretending to be asleep throughout the whole argument and I managed to stop her. I was only eight years of age. My mother did not find out I found all these evident objects until very recently. However, these are things that have ate me alive over the years and made me view relationships from a very different perspective.

I spent my childhood feeling lost and abandoned. I do not remember much about school until I hit eighth grade. I wanted to be able to feel anything other than numb, so I began dating guys for weed. I invested so much time and effort in drugs, but I had no idea they’d become my best friend for the next few years. My depression never really went away, and it got worse during my freshmen year. As I began high school, I had to think of what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. Watching my cousins be in gangs and sell drugs, I genuinely thought that was supposed to be my life as well.

I began to get gang-related at the age of 14 and I became known in a city that I refuse to speak about. However, after a few months of being involved, my first task came up. We were jumped by a rival gang and ended up in the hospital with two stab wounds. The sad part is no one helped. Everyone watched as I was slowly becoming lifeless and I had to fight through my death to walk to the nearest phone to call 9-1-1. The problem is, this isn’t where it ends. It was my fault my little brother was hanging out with us and lost his life for a lifestyle he refused to be a part of. I killed my little brother and that is something I can’t live with every day.

Losing my best friend was a difficult thing to live through and my depression fell deeper and deeper. I became a lowlife bum who always took the easy way out. It started with smoking weed every single day to selling weed and I became known as the plug at school. It did not stop there. I became invested in pills, lean, cocaine, crystal meth, and even psychedelics. Sniffing meth was my favorite rush.

Here’s my confession: I chose this path hoping that one day I would take too much shit and never wake up again. I could not live with the type of person I was—the type of person I am. Although I am finally sober, I am still unhappy and struggle with depression. I do not feel worthy of this life and feel like a burden—a waste of space, I am worthless. All these events did occur and shaped me into the person I am today, but is this really me? I never learned to love myself and I don’t know what the real me is. Truth is, I don’t want to be here.

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Jocelyn Ponce
Jocelyn Ponce
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