My name is Karen, my life — not complicated at all, so if you’re looking for some story about a girl who cuts because she was abused or raped, just stop reading now. I started hurting myself when I was about eight — of course I had not a clue of what or why I was doing this — then it was basically just interring with healing and picking. Fast forward to seventh grade, that’s when it got serious. I actually started using razors and crap — but no one noticed — they were too concentrated on my ‘eating disorder’ if you call skipping lunch an eating disorder. Well, by the end of seventh grade people finally found other people to bother about their problems, so me and my eating disorder self were left alone. Thank God. So then eighth grade rolls around. So not a fun year. I kept my cuts hidden for a while, but it got too hot and I had to wear short sleeves and at that point I didn’t give a fuck what people thought of me. Friends noticed. I ignored them. My math teacher, was finally the one to intervene and make me admit it. I’ll be honest — not liking that at first — but I appreciate it now and I still talk to her today. My parents and family and friends finding out was horrible. People at school gave me crap about it at first, it ended eventually though. So all seemed well until I landed myself in the hospital that summer. I needed stitches for a really bad cut. Then I started ninth grade which is where I’m at now. I have a social worker and a teacher I trust along with the support of my friends. I don’t cut too much anymore. Occasionally I will. Of course in the midst of all of that things went on — like my alchoholic uncle, my brother beating me up constantly to the point where I had head injuries, all random crap. But things are settling down I have a great group of friends and it looks as if I may get better.