The story of my dad

I still remember the day.

It was not long time after I'd switched school, and I hated the new one. So I'd skipped classes, and had instead gone to my old school, to hang out with Nicolaj and my best friend Ditte, who both went there. We were planning on going to Køge, the nearst shopping-place we have where I live.

My dad had gone to work, as always. But he must have come home only minuts, if not seconds, after I'd left for the old school at 11am.

We went to my place, Nicolaj, Ditte and I. The door was unlocked. But when I went in, no one was there.

I went straight to the living-room. On the dinningtable sat 3 empty bottles of wine. The 3rd was laying down, as if knocked over. The wine was everywhere.

There were letters on the table, from him to my mom. And a picture of her.

The chair was knocked over.

There was an epty bottle of pain-killers, pills. The kind that's dangerous if you take more than 8 or so.

I was 14. I knew what had happend. I just knew it, the moment I saw the empty bottle.

I tried calling my mom, but she didn't answer. I kept trying for 15 minuts, before I finally broke down. Nicolaj and Ditte took me to my room. They held me, and comforted me.

After 15 more minuts, when I'd calmed down, I tried calling my mom again. She answered. I asked her, right away: "What happend? Did he take them? Did he take them?". She told me yes, he'd taken them, all of them. But he'd regretted just afterwards, and called her. She'd called an ambulance. He was going to survive, it was all going to be allright.

I spend the night at Ditte's place. My brother and sister, unaware of what had happend, stayed with my grandparrents.

I will never forget that day...

When I was young, I had a great relationenship with my dad. When I'd gotten overweight, and had gone to a fat-camp for 10 weeks to lose weight and gotten home real pretty and all normal, we'd walk together a couple of times a week. We'd just walk, and I'd tell him about everything, all my problems. And he'd comfort me, and try to find ways to solve them. He carred for me. And I loved him very much.

But as time went by, the walks started to feel more and more akward. I wouldn't talk to him, wouldn't tell him about my life anymore. I was gaining weight, and I was doing it fast. When I was 13, we stopped.

I was a very sad kid. Hopelessly in love with my best boy friend, I was starting to wear only dark clothes. I would put safety pins in my pants, badges on my shirts. I started to wear heavy black make-up, eyeliner on my whole eyelid. Never used black lipstick, though. I would if I'd had it.

My dad hated it. He kept telling my how ugly it was. I kept getting darker and darker, kept gaining weight. He kept telling me how ugly I was.

It came to a point where we never spoke to each other. And when we did, we would fight. Over me, my looks, my weight, everything.

It was when I was 13 that I first went only and found a Pro-Ana side. She's been with me ever since, though I've never really listened to her. Not like now.

Then, at the age of 14, he got a depression and tried to kill himself. After his suicide-attempt, everything just went to hell. He would break down and cry, or he would throw around with the table and the glasses, yelling about how miserable his life was. It was the hardest thing I've ever gone through in my life.

After he started taking his medication, as he got happier and the breakdowns stopped comming all the time, we got better. But only for a little while, and only in a superficial way. When he'd tried to kill himself, I'd been so broken. I'd cried for days, being affraid of losing him. Now, I often wonder how my life would have been if he really had died. Not wishing for it, but not quiet not. I'm a terrible person.

From when I was 15, he started to accept the way I looked. I dyed my hair black, then red, the platinum blond. Black and blue. Black. Blond. Black and pink. Every time I dye it a new colour, he tells me how awful it makes me look.

My make-up developed too. From all black, to lots of colours, back to black, light make-up, then a mix of all of them.

I kept gaining.

As time went by, we started fighting again. Now, everytime we fight, it's about how I'm just using them, not carring about anything but myself. About me being fat...

I have mentioned what he's said before. He keep hurting me, calling me fat and a failure.

Everytime we ever agued, Ana's voice became stronger and stronger in my head. At this point, she's so strong that I'm not even sure it's me living my life. She's in everything I do. She's always with me. I never think of anything but her. And my dad is to blame for that.

I figured all that out yesterday, when we had yet another argument.

He closed my phone because I hadn't cleaned my room. Truth is, I was dyeing my hair as he told me, so I couldn't clean at that moment. It made me curse him, and wish he was he. He knows Nicolaj is in Budapest, that the only contact I have with him is my phone. He knows, and that's exactly why he did it!!! I hate the stupid bastard.

I really do. It's not just when I'm mad at him. I can admit it to myself, even when I'm truly happy and all.

At least he helped me into this. He helped me find you guys. And I love you all so much!

And, I've figured out the reason to my eating disorder. I want him to see me. Care for me, worry about me. I want some of his attention. I want him to realize what he fucking did to me!

Dear dad.

I hope you're proud.

You've killed your first born.

You killed her soul!

Turned her into...

Nothing.

I am nothing anymore.

I hope, when you're lying on your dead bed, seeing I'm not there, that you realize just how much of an ass you've been your entire life.

I hate you...

---

Dear girls, I'm sorry to have bored you with this.

I just really needed to get it all out.

To share it with you guys.

I love you all.

I love you so, so much!

I'm sorry about this depressing post.

I really am!

I just... Yeah :/

Stay strong girls!

- Bella ♥