Vivid. Clear. That is how I remember the first day I ever cut myself.
I was on my computer, crying, and talking to a friend from school. Earlier, I had eaten an apple, and I used a knife to slice off pieces to eat. I saw the knife and I saw my arm. It made perfect sense to me.
I pick the knife up and cut across my upper arm. It felt wonderful.
I contined to cut, for months before anyone noticed. I was 15, in my Freshman year at high school.
I was the total stereotype for your average teen. Always smiling, always laughing and making others laugh. I love to please people, always before pleasing myself. Little did my friends know, it was all a facade. Underneath the smiles and laughs, were tears and depression.
I do not know how many times I have tried to commit suicide. I figured I might as well leave before everyone else leaves me. But, cutting was always my first choice, because it was always easier and more convienent.
Now I am 17 years old, and a junior in high school — soon to be a senior. I went a good 8 or so months without cutting, but it came back with a vengeance: 100+ cuts. More depression and more self hatred. It is a vicious cycle. Once you start it is extremely hard to stop, but I have my good days were I try and I have my bad days where I screw up. I am just looking for my place in life.
E-mail me if you have any comments and/or advice. Thanks.