Quiet Yells

Copyright, Dean

Well. I’ve been deciding if I should share this with other people online. But it helps for me to get it out and hopefully some of you out there can relate.

I started cutting myself last November (2002). So this has been going on about a year. I was going through a low point and all my friends were being jerks. I couldn’t deal with crap anymore and I remembered a show where I saw some kid cutting themselves and I wondered if that would help me feel better. It did. A lot. I told my friend and she helped me a lot and I had stopped until around mid February.

I started back up again when my friend I told my cutting to (a girl) didn’t want to go out with me because she didn’t want to settle down and have a serious relationship with anyone. Or in other words, she wanted to have all the “fun” she could with other guys until she settled down with me. That made me feel like crap because the only person I told crap too was gone.

So I started cutting at least once a week until June. That’s when my life went straight to hell. To sum it up: My dad was telling my mom he was ashamed of me, and my friends were starting to turn against me and I didn’t know why. There is a ton of other crap that went wrong too, but I’ll save that until later, it’s not important now.

In August I started cutting once a day. They were starting to get pretty bad. One night I laid in bed and cut my arm and I thought I had hit a vein. It wouldn’t stop bleeding for an hour. I went to the doctor for depression the next day. I wanted to get help. He said that he didn’t think I had it and he sent me home empty-handed.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, it did. School started and I was overwhelmed with hard classes and homework, and once again my friends were ditching me. I could only put up with it for so long. On September 11th I told my mom about cutting myself. I missed school the next day and went to a counselor. She said I have major deperession and I’m now on anti-deppressants. I also promised my mom I wouldn’t cut myself anymore.

That promise to my mom lasted 5 days. I now cut myself at around 5 times a day. Once in the shower at night and however many I feel like when I go to bed. Even when I have a good day, I still resort to cutting myself. It’s become an addiction. These recent cuts are starting to get really bad too and I wrote DIE in my skin two days ago. I have also been contemplating suicide a lot in the recent weeks. I made a half-ass attempt at it once, taking 9 Advils at one time. It only made me hyper the first time and really tired the second time. I’m still thinking about doing that again too.

Well, that’s about it.


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