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When I was 15 I was cutting my wrists. A teacher of mine saw my wrists, covered in bloody bandaids, looked at me with complete disgust and said ‘surely you aren’t desperate enough for that’ is a sarcastic tone.
He did nothing about what he saw, or about the fact that I was completely honest when I told him I cut myself. Not. A. Thing. When I guess at that point I was hoping for someone to see, to care, to realize I was struggling and to help me.
Worthless piece of shit not even a teacher could give a shit about.
Changed from my wrists to my thigh after this. I would struggle in silence. I was worth nothing. Just that ‘sad, loser, emo kid’.
He got a brain tumor a year later. Karma’s a bitch.
Suck on that you piece of shit teacher.