I started cutting in the 7th grade, I am now going to be in the 10th. It started off with tacks just scratching with no blood. But one day I remembered my brother did not come home and my mom was so mad that she went to search for him. He finally came and she was throwing pans and knifes at him. I had to step in front of him so he would not get hit. That was the day I drew blood. I felt so much better I felt like everything was happy I had no worries and I was finally free. I did that for a year then went back to tacks when things got a little better but then 9th grade came and I just fell apart. All my friends moved on and left me behind, I had to make all new friends. But I still did everything wrong to everyone, I have never done one thing right. One of my friends told someone at the school and long story short I had to go to the hospital I have to see a therapist and have community service. Everyone thinks I have stopped but I haven’t I still cut and I love the feeling. I need it. If you ever need to talk I am here. E-mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org.
The story about me
I started cutting when I was 12 years old. Why? I didn’t like myself. Well, let me tell you my story.
6th grade I was queen b. I was popular I had all the guys I wanted. Life was awesome. Then my friends ditched me. All my friends. I was left alone. I was so mad, so upset. Time passed by gradually till 8th grade. I had friends, but kids picked on me so much. They would pick out anything bad about me and make fun of me.
I was hurting, so I decided, what can I do? Nothing is making me feel better. I decided I would try cutting. Just once. I took my mother’s razor and did a cut, and the blood came out. I felt like all my pain that was inside came out with the blood. I needed to do it more I thought, so I made tiny slits all the way up my arm, in one night.
My mom took me to a counselor and the counselor told me I was clinically depressed and wanted to put me on pills. I would never swallow them. I would put them to the side of my mouth and then go in the bathroom. Everytime I would think of a new place to cut. My neck, my ankles, my wrists, my belly.
It was becoming addictng. I couldn’t stop. More blood, more… I was like a vampire. At school I was known as the weird one. People would see my wrists and could hardly speak. I would say “Darn cat, darn friggin’ cat.”
One night sometnhing happened and I was pretty mad. I took the razor, rammed it into my right wrist, and blood gushed out. I started panicing. My mom came in and screamed. I fell to the floor.
Last thing I remember is waking up in the hospital having bandages everywhere. You don’t know how good of a feeling it is to wake up and know you aren’t going to die.
I’ve learned so much and I am still recovering today.
I am now 16 years old, getting my life back on track and having a lot more friends. Life is pretty okay now.
Kristen, 16, CA
If you want to contact me my screen name on AIM is infamousloserr or e-mail is email@example.com.