My life had been great. My parents adored me and i had lot of friends. I was the tall, smart, funny, awesome kid. Them came sixth grade and it all came crashing down. I was no longer the kid everyone loved. My father started to yell at me a lot. Every day he would scream at me for silly things. Then my mom stopped paying attention to me. She was always on the internet as if I wasn't even there. All my "friends stopped talking to me. My grades dropped and things just keep getting worse. Then one night I was sitting in my room crying about something, I couldn't move at all and I felt like everything was spinning and My mind raced. But it all stopped when one little idea came to my head. My body went auto pilot as I stood up and grabbed my scissors if my desk. I hadn't even realize I did it until I saw the blood run down my arm. They say things will get better but they aren't. I have one friend left and he is in the UK while I'm stuck in America. My parents still hate me. I still have no friends at school. I still cut. The only reason I'm not dead is because of my one UK friend. He's becoming depressed and I need to watch out for him and keep him going. I refuse to let him fall into the same trap.