Have you ever felt alone, like there’s no one there, no one listening to you? I’ve had that exact feeling, when I had encountered a whole new life. I had just moved to a new state, Nevada. I dislike Nevada very much. It is hot and dry; I was used to the snow, and being around warm fireplaces. My mother and father had finally, really split up. They had always threatened to leave, but it never happen. Now, it was for real, and I couldn’t believe it. After the divorce I was sent to be with my mother, she had met a new man, Gregg. We moved into his house, and this is how I got here, to Nevada, my new life. I think I disliked Gregg just as much as Nevada. He was stealing my mother away from me. I felt very alone, I was off to a new school, new house, and an entire new life, with no one there to comfort me. Some people find it a blessing to start over, but I was content with my life already. I was very shy at this point, so I did not expect to make many friends at school. At first, at school I felt as if everyone noticed me, but didn’t care enough to give me a chance, but it was better than the feelings I got from home. When I was home, I felt I was not even noticed. My mother was so preoccupied with her new boyfriend, it was as if I wasn’t even there. I figured my only way out was finding friends, so I could escape what felt like a rubber room isolation, I called home.
At school, I began to talk more, and eventually found friends. I had started spending more time with friends, than at my own house. My mother and I became very far apart, and my step father and I hardly ever talked. Even though I had friends, I still felt alone and had no one really close. At home I seemed depressed. My arms became a permanent reminder of my mothers neglect. With the scars and teas of an unhappy, emotional teen, I had decided enough was enough. I guess that decision was not up to me. I had begun to fight with my mother constantly. She never noticed the scars she had forced me to make. I took that as a sign to just forget her old ways and move on. I was out of the house so much, you would think I didn’t even live there. I would go behind my mothers back, have boyfriends, a MySpace, and of course some more scars had appeared. My grades had begun to slip. I didn’t really care, if no one cared, why should I, but then maybe there was someone who cared. There was one teacher that had just maybe cared enough. She began getting close to me, learning about my problems. She constantly tried to cheer me up. I had thought she was just crazy at first, but I was wrong. She was very intelligent, wise teacher. She had noticed problems, and tried to get involved. At first I had rejected her, but she started to grow on me. I started to tell her more, and did not feel so alone. I had gotten my sense back, and eventually I moved into my father’s house. I became more social, and had more friends now. I still hung out with them a lot. But felt more comfortable at my new home. I realize now everyone has those lonely moment, but when I see those permanent scars upon my wrist, I see that it really just matters how you handle those moments.