I cant remember when it was perfect. I was ‘Lewis’ sister’ in primary, and after a kid punched lewis in the jaw I set about breaking his little brother. Then I kissed another girl, who later transfered. And I was never going to fit in from then on. The was Yr1. By year 6 Id learnt to get in trouble to stay inside for detention so I didnt have to go outside. I worked 100% all of the time and didnt stop for lunch. I excelled in every subject and was top of class with a reading age three years older. This got me into a private school. But they werent like me. They were posh and cared about makeup and hair and I hated the ‘traditional’ uniform which I felt was barbaric in blizzard conditions. Needless to say few people liked me and my only friend Heather got seriously ill in year 8. When Cameron put a banana in her locker and labelled it energy food and left it to rot, i pushed him into the metal railing and he split his lip. Prashant said something about her so I punched him. Year 8, back to no friends, only this time no matter what I did I wasnt top for sport or work, bar Maths. So I stayed with myself in the new music room at lunch and break times. I put on a serious amount of weight not moving around as much and eating more. I sat and taught myself piano. I could read music from learning the clarinet. I did this for years, and made friends with a group of people from the year below who used to play music together. This seemed to make the music teacher take a liking to me. Year 9 I badly hurt my ankle and was diagnosed with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome type Hypermobility and was told not to do sports except swimming. I had lots of medals for football, netball etc and had gone to extra time tenis practice to try to get better.

In that year, I took the time everyone else spent in PE and practiced music. I took it up for GCSE in place of sport. Putting on more weight, I composed and played. After my dad left for New Zealand I kind of cut myself off from the world. I was badly behaved at school and home, and mum and my teachers didnt know how to handle it. Mum hit and kicked and spat because thats all she knew. My teachers mostly yelled and put me in detention, but Mr Pybus made me stay in and practice or work. It was the best thing he couldve done for me. I ended up losing no marks on my composition pieces and scoring highest in the country. I could now play grade 5 pieces and had not had lessons. I found music to be my passion. It was everything I had.

Then I left Hymers for Wyke, sick of its traditionalist methods and strictness, and hoping for a fresh start. Thats when I met Jess, Jess and Jenny. I only stuck with them for a couple of weeks, they were nice enough but clearly not people I had much in common with. I met George who introduced me to Lozzah, Lucy and a few others. I had a falling out with George when I told him that my mum hit me and he didnt believe me so he told Lozzah that I lied about it. I ended up being really good friends with Lozzah, Lucy and their friend Sol, who told me the student exec were looking for another first year representative. I did that, signed up for debating and drama and started piano lessons. My teacher had me playing Fur Elise, something I had mastered several years prior, for the entire year. Most lessons I didnt play at all for she would talk to me about god and how being Bi was wrong. I was pretty sick of her by the end of it. October I went to a clubbing party with a few people, got pissed and made out with most of the college.

Lozzah met her stillboyfriend Jack and I met my soontobe Best Friend Adam. He threw up and got thrown out but not before we made out and he gave me a cigarette. I didnt even smoke but I wondered what it was all about.

I started smoking and spent most of my lunches in smokers area, Id seen how slim everyone was, and with mum constantly calling me names, I took to losing weight. I wouldnt eat, noone noticed other than Adam. He didnt say anything at first, but tried to talk to me about it later. He was the first person I told everything to. He wasnt shocked, he didnt care I had scars, he said he still loved me. He tried to buy me food and guilt me into eating it. I went from 12stone at Hymers to 8 stone that year. Me, Adam and two friends met up on 23rd December 2011. It was night and we thought the club was open, but it wasnt. It was so cold and I was the only one who bought a jacket, so we all swapped it round. We homemade a bong and me and adam got high, then we stole a bottle of Port from Tesco and me and adam got pissed. My taxi came late, and refused to pick me up from the same place Adam and our friends were getting picked up from. I insisted Id be fine and took the short way through Queens Gardens. Okay, yes the dodgy bit of a dodgy city, but it was maybe 300m from where Id be picked up. I stopped to light a cigarette and heard a shout. High and drunk and sixteen. There were five guys, one of them asked for a cig. I gave him one and he lit up. He asked my name, I gave him a fake one and said I needed to go. He said he just wanted to chat and have a christmas kiss. One of them said cmon lets just go.

I was late for my taxi, he made me pay the extra, which I didnt have. I had to go inside and borrow money from mum which was paid out of my christmas money. I didnt go to church that christmas eve and wore long clothes to hide the bruises. It was cold, noone was asking questions.

The selfharm started up again after that. I stopped talking so much and started misbehaving. Answering back, calling teachers names, not turning up and smoking lots of cigarettes and occasionally weed. I was rude and abrasive most of the time, but made more friends and lost some good old ones. I continued losing weight and being more and more trouble at home. Mum was barely there and when she was she avoided me or would get angry and hurt me.

I went to Spiders club with a friend when a guy showed us magic tricks and then started flirting with me. I rolled my eyes and he just offered to buy me a drink. I took the drink and walked back to find my friends. I felt ill, probably from how drunk I was, and went to get some air. I was stood outside and he came out and said to me that if i was sick then they wouldnt let me back it and led me round the back. He asked if i felt better and I sais I did. He said good and pushed me against the wall and kissed me. I pushed him off and told him im was going inside. He grabbed me and apologised and I told him to fuck off. And then he pushed me into the corner and said cmon just a quickie. I bought you a drink. As if I was some cheap prostitute or something. He held my hands and undid his belt with the other. I kicked him and ran towards the entrance, he caught me and I yelled and a car drove past and he let go and I ran to the front. I told the people on the door to not let him in again. My friends mum used to work at the club and was well known and liked so they didnt let him in. I came out later that night a little shook up and someone I considered a friend hit me, blaming me for something I had no idea about. I went back to Beths and cleaned my teeth and changed. He was screaming about getting back at the girl who hit me and the guy.

I guess I had very little respect for my own body at this point and kissed people and slept with a few people, not caring if it was cheating or not. I got kicked off one of my courses and pushed down to a lower qualification on another. This knocked any confidence left and I took to harder drugs.

Mum kicked me out, a week later begging me back but I didnt want that anymore. All I could think of the times she put me down or hurt me or just wasnt there. I sofa surfed, stayed at Beths, Jades, stayed one night a Georges and ended at Bens. I barely knew him, but he was nice and let me stay free until I got my income support. I barely ate so feeding me didnt cost much and I slept on the sofa. It was a small flat but it was okay. We had some really good times and it was just down the road from Adam too, who started sneaking out. We’d get stuff in and started to more and more drugs. Ben went crazy one night on drugs and started to get more and more adgy and angry. Started punching walls with knuklebusters and dealing. He had knifes and it started to become a miserable place to live. It got messier and messier and people started turning up at funny times looking for Ben who was barely there anymore. My stuff got nicked and I wasnt eating for days at a time. I thought I was pregnant and stopped. I was really badly selfharming at this point. I didnt care for my life, I was alone. I had college. That was it, so I went for my results where I was told I wasnt allowed back because of rumours about the flat. I just went outside, sat on the curb and cried, scratching at my arms and utterly distraught. This meant I had to go to Hull College if I wanted my money for food and rent, which was right next to Queens Gardens. By this time my eating had reached the point of serious worry as Adam would say. I was 6st12 at one point, and everytime I said Id lost a pound he’d tell me to put it back on. But I couldnt eat, I didnt want to be fat.

A friend Id volunteered in Africa with offerend me to stay a week. I told him everything. The only thing I left in Hull was my camera and that wasnt there when I went back. I heard Ben was getting a gun, I finally felt safe and okay, and knew I had to go back to that. I had noone and nowhere and nothing to live for, so i took an overdose. The friend got back from work and made me go to the hospital despite my protests. Saving my life turns out. I stayed there for four days on an antidote and saw social workers and a psychiatrist and was allowed out. I didnt sleep the entire time. I was used to not sleeping because of the flat. But I had drugs help then. Now I didnt even have that escape. Found out I wasnt pregnant. One positive I guess. Aidan and Kate took half a day off each to stay with me on friday and a social worker came. Told me I had to go back to Hull. I wanted to scream so bad, they were sending me back to it all. They were meant to help. Cementing my negative view against them.

A week later I was with my dad in New Zealand, a practical stanger. I could count the times Id seen him in the past ten years on two hands, but I went. And here I am. Ive done nothing since being here. Just sat here wasting. But I dont care anymore. Im not going to be anything. I fucked it all up. Now Im just the product of my actions and experiences.

I still struggle a lot with being off drugs, not selfharming and especially with losing weight. I put on so much coming here and eating more that once a day most days. Now I lost 7lbs this month and can feel myself slipping again. I feel frustrated and depressed and angry most of the time. I dont want to be here and I dont want to sleep at night because its not rest for me. Its just reliving the nightmares. I struggle, but I listen to music. Everytime I play guitar, piano or sing, they tell me to shut up. So I just listen, for hours and hours everyday. I listen. Because music has and always will be my saviour.