ghfgfgfd: I just want to fall in love and smoke cigarettes.

I want to graduate college and meet a boy as fucked up as me and live happily ever after.

So people want to hear my story. It took a lot for me to post this. But here it is..

Everyone has a past. Everyone has pain. And fucked up things they block out. And happy moments they live for and in. My story is ridiculous. My life has been ridiculous. I won't even go back to the beginning. It’s all too much to tell in one time but I will condense down some stuff. I just got home to Buffalo from vacation. I’m so happy my mom and I are at this place. It’s love. And I was so mad at her for so long because of the things that happened to me my whole life; mad at her and disgusted by my family and the people that did things/let these things happen to me. I’m the youngest of 7 kids. None of my brothers and sisters ever really were close to me. Except one of them, Casey. but he was killed 2 years ago-which we won't talk about now. I never met my dad. He bailed when my mom was pregnant with me. I don't know where he is nor do I care. Growing up was miserable. I mean, I was a kid. I was alone all the time. I liked to write. That was my thing. I had step dads in and out of my life constantly making promises and then breaking them. I had an older brother who made my life a living hell. Not even kidding. My whole family was miserable because of him. And it's worse than any of you can even imagine. I would literally get the shit kicked out of me for breathing. It was constant verbal, mental, and physical abuse-as he was a huge 350 lb football player and I am just little me. He shattered his arm to pieces punching my sister in the face one time. Broke a broomstick into 6 pieces over my head when I was a little girl. I had to hide bruises on me when I went to school; just gave kids more ways to say “Yeah, their family is crazy. 7 kids and her parents beat her too.” No. It was my brother. But it was horrible. My sister and I couldn't even talk our whole lives. We would come home from school in terror and hide in our rooms just trying not to piss him off. He was put in jail for kicking the shit out of me so bad that I was in the hospital for 5 days, finally-but not until I was 12. My mom had married another guy by then..he seemed nice and worked at the head of juvenile corrections so I felt that he would keep us safe. I was the last kid left at home and we lived in Florida at this point. He started out with real potential. I didn't trust anybody. I was scared to breathe and even exist all the time. I had no friends at school. I was just a sad girl a lot of my life. I mean, I was happy at times-everybody is, It was just always stifled. So I latched onto my new step-dad. I felt like he would be there for me. Everything seemed great. Until he started coming into my room in the middle of the night when everyone was sleeping and I would come home from school and he would have bubble baths drawn for me and I was like "what are you doing? I'm not getting in there!" Then he would get mad and start telling my mom I was on drugs and stuff (I’ve never even gone NEAR drugs). So he started seriously mind fucking me. He told me that nobody loves me, and that I was fat and should probably skip dinner. He would slide papers on “how to be skinny” underneath my bedroom door. He was just cruel. Everything got fucking horror movie. He was telling me my mom didn't love me and told him that she wished I would just die. And then he would tell me that if I'm unhappy, I should just kill myself because “not everyone is meant to live til they are 80” …I was so mind fucked. I was so depressed. Then he convinced my mom we needed to move to Buffalo when I was 14. At that point, my mom didn't believe me when I told her he was molesting me and also mentally fucking me up to the point where he was trying to get me to kill myself. He was telling her I was crazy. I blamed her so much. I have completely forgiven her and realize she probably felt stuck-even though I still may never understand how all this could happen. So we moved to Buffalo, at which point I was totally and scary depressed. I was terrified of everyone and everything. I told my stepdad to fuck off when we moved here and that I was going to be happy and healthy and do WHATEVER the fuck I wanted and he wasn't going to fucking touch me ever again because I would run around town and tell anyone who would listen what he was doing if he did. I didn't have much threat to pull from being a 14 year old weak little girl but I gave it my all. Things got fucking crazy when we got here. My mom and he were in casinos most hours of every day; which was fine by me cause I didn't want near him. I started school and started making friends. I made my first friend and she called my house one day which pissed him off totally and so he stayed up all night for a week calling her house at 3am and waking up her parents and saying “see doesn't it suck to be woken up by a phone call? don't have your daughter call this house ever again” He hated me for telling him to fuck off so shit got worse. If my mom would talk to me, he would punish her by beating the shit out of her and tell her “oh why don't you go be with Katie. Katie rules the world” I literally was so quiet and a good fucking kid. I was hated for existing by my brother, and now my step dad. It was the hardest thing to lose my mom. I had nobody. I became really suicidal. One night I was crying so hard in my my room my step dad kicked the door down and beat me with his belt and threw things like books and my television at me. I just needed somebody to want me. My mom didn't care since she was scared herself. I started cutting myself. It got so bad that my teachers called me in and asked me questions but I didn't answer them. I was too scared my step dad would find out and hurt me or even kill me. Cutting was my only escape from the pain I was feeling. I had to hide it. I started cutting my thighs and stomach. One night my step dad came into my room as usual in the middle of the night and touched me again. Everytime since I was 12 when he started I had tears streaming down my face the whole time. It was horrible. But at 15 I was so used to it, I was numb to it. He felt my thighs and noticed the scars and freaked out. He jumped out of my bed and called me a psychopath. He told me my life was perfect and there was no reason to try and get attention. He said instead of cutting myself that I should just kill myself and get it over with. But he kept touching me almost every night. It was horrible. So I kept doing it. I kept cutting. It was my defense and also a release from the emotional pain. My sophomore year of high school, my friend snuck over to my house while they were out at the casino..and I told her to come to the garage. My stepdad had a huge cabinet with a big padlock on it in there and I knew it was the motherload of whatever he was hiding. We broke the lock. And my life changed. He had boxes of polaroid pictures of me not looking, pictures of my bedroom everyday for a year with the date on each one, pictures of all of my friends license plates, all of my sports newspaper clippings, my bus pass that went missing so I couldn't get around, my underwear, earrings, then I found 3 receipts for hidden cameras which were in the house and in my bathroom, floppy disks full of footage,. lots of gay porn (?) and just crazy shit. So I called my brother (not the one in jail for beating me) and he called the cops for me. The cops came…and they were like..oh my god. My mom rushed home. She worked for juvenile services and so did my stepdad. So he said I was lying. And since he had been a cop his whole life as well, they believed him and filed the call under “child in desperate need of attention”…that was it for me. I left that house and moved in with my boyfriend at the time at 16 and got the fuck away. My relationship with my mom was all but gone. I was so mad at her. He stopped talking to my mom for a year and a half after that. He was just living in her house, her paying all his bills and not saying one word because he would beat her if she did. He slept on the back porch. My mom, bless her heart…just wants somebody to love her when she loves them..ya know? just like anyone else would and she was convinced he would change back to the person he used to be. But I was long gone from this scene. She texted me one day at work and said “I left him” I didn't even have feelings towards it. I drifted. Anywhere. I was miserable. I felt like I always had unfinished business and let me remind you-this is just one of the many aspects to why I am the way I am.

My boyfriend that I was living with was a huge heroin addict and always tried to get me to do it with him. I never would. I am not that person. Cutting was my only way out. I couldn't turn to drugs too. I drank a lot though. I mean a lot. I blacked out most of the time. A lot of things I don't remember. One night I was pretty drunk and fell asleep on my boyfriends bed. He had a few friends over that constantly hit on me when my boyfriend wasn't around. They were shitty friends. They treated him so badly. It bothered me. I hated them. They knew this. So my boyfriend rode his skateboard to get drugs down the street and left his friends there with me. I was drunk but I remember everything. Three guys high on heroin and drunk out of their minds, came in my room and jumped on top of me. They ripped my clothes off and molested me. I was screaming and crying hysterically. I remember looking at there faces and they were smiling and laughing. They thought it was funny. I got away and ran outside and saw my boyfriend coming and I told him what happened. He didn't believe me. He confronted them and he even laughed with them saying I'm fucking crazy. Even though my shirt was ripped off me. My underwear was ripped. I had scratches on my arms and legs and they had cuts on there faces from me hitting them. He didn't care. I felt horrible. Thats an understatement. Words cant describe the way I felt. Everyone I ever trusted or loved in my life turned on me. I got my things and left him. I walked the streets of south buffalo all night. I went to Caz park and slept there. I contemplated suicide, cause honestly who would care if I did die? No one. I had no family, no friends. Nothing. I was completely alone. But I forgot one person who I think still loved me. My brother. I called him and he came and got me and took me to his house. He was crying.. Hes a 21 year old man. I told him everything, even about me wanting to die. He told me he loved me and he will be here for me...forever. I lived with him for since theand it was wonderful. He was my best friend. He understood me. He took care of me. Then on October 21st 2011 he was killed in a car accident. I couldn't breathe. Now the only person who did love me leaves also? I kept asking God ..why? Why me? What did I do to deserve this pain? I had no answers. Obviously. There is no fucking God. My mom and I had to get back in touch...since the funeral..and everything. We decided I have to come back and live with her. So thats what I did. My step dad was gone for good and it was just me and her. Things might actually get better.

Just living in my mom’s house..sitting in the house where everything happened, seeing the garage and the cabinet that's still there..gives me goosebumps. We talk about stuff a lot now-my mom and I. Still a lot I’m afraid to tell her. But I trust her. We’ve made it through some shit. Forgiveness..more than anything else is the single most beautiful thing we can do. I am now 19 years old and life is okay. I mean, yes I have depression, anxiety and I still cut. But I am getting help to this day. But I have good days. Where I can laugh and just be happy. Before everyday was miserable for me. Every fucking day was live or die for me. If you’re going through a huge shit tunnel, there is light, I promise. Sometimes you just gotta make the light. Shits real hard. More often than it will ever be easy. I go to college now. I have a great job. And great friends. In high school I never had friends. I had a heroin addict boyfriend. That's it. I was always made fun of at school. And too scared to go home. blah blah.blah. I don't want sympathy. I am happy now that I feel love from my Mom. I kept distance from my Mom for a long time. Punished her for everything that happened. Like I said ..we love each other. Every family goes through things. After my brother was killed..we realized that life is too short to be petty. My brother that used to beat me..we are closer than ever. He’s actually become a really amazing person. Hes stopped drinking and using drugs. And I have made mistakes to in life. I punished myself most out of anyone. My mom and I are so much alike, its crazy. She got back to herself after he left. And he has been gone for awhile now and my mom smiles so much now. This is a lot. I just wanted to share. I have literally been through hell 7 times and back. Just want to hug you and tell you I love you all and that you’ll make it through stupid shit. I still am depressed if you can't already tell from my blog. I've been in and out of hospitals from my cutting. I push people away, especially boys. I just will never think a guy could love such a fucked up girl so I push them away. I just want one person to stay with me. But it never happens. I'm too fucking crazy to be loved but I've already accepted it. I still have panic attacks, and I hate who I am. But I'm not always like this..I have happy times. Especially with my friends. They keep me alive. I haven't been in the hospital since March..The one thing that makes me happiest is my guitar and writing. Its not anything serious, but I love doing it. I love singing. ..well I just need to vent. And this is the place I do it..... forehead kiss to all of you.

-Katie Kelley.