Copyright Andrea

Where to begin, as I’m typing this almost all of the bad memories from the past come flooding back in. I don’t exactly remember most of my childhood especially further down from four, which is when I went to kindergarden. Which was a good year.

I was always a kinda mean child who manipulated others to getting what I wanted, even at a young age I was a bitch.

First grade didn’t make things any better, I was a bad kid who was always talking back to the teacher pissing her off. Then I brought drugs to school and almost got suspended but wound up getting three days in the principals office (in school).

Second grade got worse because that’s when I realised I was really popular, I had always had cool friends and they were popular but I wasn’t (weird, huh?). My behavior got worse because when someone would piss me off I would steal something from them at least I think that’s why I did it. I stole a lot that year and then when I stopped the teacher never forgave me because I was the only student who told her off that year. I finshed the year good.

Third grade was tight I had a lot of friends and was usually always center of attention, until I stole 150 dollars and some makeup from a girl. I just wanted the nail polsih I didn’t give a shit about the money. But told the principal I just wanted the money, I was too lazy to explain what I really wanted. I almost got suspended but ended up having a week off in the principals office. The girl forgave me and I finshed the year good.

Now fourth grade was the best everyone in my classroom was so friggin cool and we all got along and I finished that year with minimum embarrassment and only had to stay in the office a couple of times.

5th grade was bullshit it sucks they purposely separated me from my friends I mean I had some from last year but the rest were in a class all together. My class was specially made for the slow bad kids.

To deal with the stress of my teacher bad mouthing me every day I started scratching with minimum blood. I didn’t exactly know what was going on but all I knew was that I felt good afterwards. I also did something very stupid that year too. I was pretty chunky but most peoples said I was cute and I let someone take advantage of me. At age ten I gave oral sex to a guy, he really wanted to know what it was like and so I did it I wish I hadn’t. I’ve always been experienced when it came to shit like that, I kissed my first girl in first grade I didn’t know what homosexuality was back then and we were playing house. It was also my first french kiss too which I did with a guy the same year playing the same game, he was three years older than me.

I stopped scratching in 6th grade but started up again in 7th, I have never understood myself school was great but I didn’t take it up. I was busy thinking of ways to lose weight and kill myself. I got called ugly that year by a guy in front of the whole class room. I just wanted to disappear and never return. I had always thought I was ugly but then I knew it was the truth. I started real cutting that year slicing at my arm with a fabric cutter. The sensation the natural high was great, for those few seconds few minutes I relaxed. I as also sufering from the promblems at home, you see my dad is a dumbass and screws things up every single day. If my parents weren’t jehovahs witnesses I bet they’d be divorced, money was tight and I was mad cause I wasn’t getting the things I wanted but I kept that all to myself. I ruined 7th grade when I could have been having fun. The counsellor found out that year and she sent me to a school appointed therapist then the day before spring break she calls me up and says that she going to tell my parents and recommend to them that I get help because I had a shitload of cut scabs on my arm. I thought it might have been an april fools joke because it was april 1. so all spring break I spent my time inside by the phone waiting. She didn’t call I was so friggin happy. Then when I get back to school she calls me up and says that she called today and my mom knows. I expectied that when I got home there was going to be yelling, there was none all they said was that if I hit a vein or got an infection and died it would be my fault (the love, so strong). I stopped cutting after they found out. Finally school ended and I was left to have a miserable summer, which I did. I started cutting again when I realised that I wasn’t really fat when me and the people I happen to be living with went to Richmond for this God thing. They care more about God than me. When we got back after three days I became bulimic and started writing poetry. I was so alone I had no one to talk to and everyone thought I just wanted attention and I did want attention I wanted help I wanted to for once feel happy but was too afraid to just ask for help. Dylan understood me the hot australian hunk who loved me and I loved him I ost weight for him I stopped cutting for him and he was always there for me and I miss him so. He doesn’t exist I made him in my mind and actually got to believing he was real. For the time of the ummer I thought he was.

8th grade was the worst year ever, my classes sucked I just came back from a sucky summer and was in no mood for games. I started having serious mood swings, cussing at my friends and teachers for no reason. I was just plain pissed that whole year one minute looking towards some one with awe and admiration then envy and hate. I got in a lot of trouble that year but soon cleaned up with the help of my friends they were the best. I was middleclass that year, I went from being popular in 6th to semi popular in 7th to middleclass in 8th, I got called ugly again that year from the guy I liked I cried cut and went to sleep hoping I would die. This summer going to high school was the worst first off my dad cashed a scam check in the mail for 4.000 dollars and you had to pay 3.000 but he didn’t pay attention to that, the phone got cut off but that was later. I was constantly yelling cussing and screaming at everyone in our little five room duplex. In our house there is only five rooms, not bedrooms, five rooms in the house. They are all crappy we don’t even have a bath tub only a crappy shower that floods and gets clogged up, a broken window in the front of the house that no one has any money to fix it’s just an ugly house. I feel some great guilt especially towards my little sister, she has down syndrome, and I can be really mean to her when I’m in my angry irritated mood. Can you believe the counsellor thought I was bipolar? Ha. She sleeps with my parents and she is eleven. I share a room with my older sister and the room is small. My parents scrape up money to go to a God thing but not to get groceries or school clothes. About two weeks before school started up the water got cut off and I was mad and cussing and got kicked out of the house at thirteen, in the night. I came back because they came looking for me. I was cutting like crazy by now. On my wrist and became bulimic again. I’ve lost a lot of weight. I finally got some school stuff with the help of my mom’s family and found out the electricity was about to be cut off I was so mad and so was my older sister, she got kicked out and we ended up staying with my aunt for a day till things cooled down. High school is OK but I have generalized anxiety disorder, I might have BPD and HPD I’m seeing the schools appointed therapist to help with my thougths which won’t stop and I can’t concentrate so I’m failing. Good thing it’s the first quarter. I have depression to thoughts of suicide I no longer cut now, I burn and have blisters all on my wrist. I’m in love with a guy who likes someone else and probably doesn’t know my name and I don’t even know if I like him because I’ll just pick a guy to think about to get my mind off the things in my life. Money is so tight and I really need medical help, my body aches all over my throat gets lumps in it all the time it gets hard to breathe and the nurse hates me so she won’t help. I’m not myself I have no clue what I’m going to do with my life I just want to die than face the world, I’m too weak.

Sorry I typed so messy, I’m a bad writer. Thanks for reading it feels so good getting this off my chest but there is still so much I haven’t told.

My Personal Story

Copyright Andrea

I first started cutting when I was thirteen years old, after I found out that what my father was doing to me was abuse. I felt like it was my fault, and like I had no control of what was going on. This is my story.

I was a 7th grader when I first started. Everyone else seemed to be going anorexic, and I vowed that I would never do that, but I was addicted to something as well, self-injury. Nobody could see it, but just beneath my clothes were tons of cuts, self-inflicted cuts. I would wear long sleeves, long pants, and dark glasses to cover up the cuts.

One time, I cut so deep that I almost committed suicide, and that’s when I knew that I had to quit. I didn’t want to die because I knew that I had a bright future. For my New Year’s Resolution on 2006, I vowed that I would try to stop the habit.

Now, I will admit that I still cut, but the urge has gone down quite a bit. I have found that even the simplest of things like taking a bath, cleaning your room, writing, or shredding paper can be the most beneficial ways of breaking the habit. If you would like, e-mail me. Thank you for reading my story.

And don’t worry, there is hope out there for you too. Never lose hope, and work hard to break the habit yourself.


Copyright Andrea

Well, I just started a year ago when I was twelve. It was when my boyfriend dumped me. I have a very low selfsteem. Without him I felt worth nothing. When I was eleven I had a problem with anorexia. Unfortunately it was so obvious how all of a sudden I became very skinny so my parents figured it out but I never went to the psych ward. The thing is that it happens we have a “family conference” to “work out” the problem but honestly they never do, instead it gets me worse. I really need someone to hear what I have to say. Cutting is my only way out. Then when I cut in the school hallway my life became a living hell. Everyone called me cutter and I have no help. It is very addictive, once you start it you can’t stop it. I am thirteen now, I am officially a teenager. I was born in El Salvador but I live in the US. I want just someone to hear me. I don’t want to die. I am not a freak, I am just scared to cry! But I have a big background of failed suicide attempts. I know there are lots of people like me. Don’t desperately look for a friend be sure in me you’ll find one. I cannot help myself but I can help someone who suffers and shares with me the same old pain that consumes my body and soul day by day till I get to go to hell. Life, for now I can’t see it worth living.


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