My Self-Harming

Copyright, Dreeze

Never thought I was going to be unhappy, until I turned fifteen.

It all started when this guy in my class started bugging me and commenting me for every move I made. The rest of the class joined him too. It got worse when my grades where getting bad and my parents got mad. I really started to hate school, not for the boring classes, but just to come out my room. When I got my report card before Christmas my parents punished me by taking away the tv, computer, playstation… I just started crying and I took the first sharp thing I could find, a geometry triangle, I was so mad at myself that I just poked myself with the triangle in my left arm. That calmed me down, and I forgot all my problems. And that was the first time I did it.

I did it more and more with knives and glass when I got home from school. I also didn’t pay attention anymore in class. I started cutting my left arm in class too, everyone saw it but no one dared to talk about it. One teacher saw it and sent me to a school psychiatrist but I never showed up.

When my mom saw it in the morning she was all shocked and in the evening I had hours of discussion. My dad was pissed off and they checked on me every day so I bought wristband and started cutting under that because no one saw it. I hated myself for what I was, for what I did. Everywhere I went I thought things like; “Why is he looking at me, am I wearing something wrong?”, “OMG, my pants isn’t dirty or something”. I didn’t feel comfortable anymore.

I bought me a guitar as a musical outlet and it helped a little. I also got a job at the go-kart race track where I made lots of new friends and met a girl, she was only twelve years old. She loved everything about me, she was crazy about me. According to her, I’ve got a sexy voice, I look good, nice looking fingers. Sounds weird but that girl made me stop cutting myself, because of her I felt lots better, wasn’t scared of what other people might think of me.

I’ve never been proud of my scars and I don’t have any pictures of it. Now I’m scars-free for months, and I think that all the problems will solve themselves somehow. A psychiatrist couldn’t help because there isn’t a single person who knows exactly what’s going through your head but you. You just have to find that boy or girl that helps you. Even though he or she don’t know about your problems. They’re there for you without asking.

My advice to people like me, don’t lock yourself up, that isn’t helping, it just makes you more paranoid. Killing yourself isn’t gonna help at all. I know how it feels but you will make it in life, as long as you stay off drugs and crime. I’ve helped a girl from cutting and killing herself and other people told me I am a good talker to depressed people. I’m there for people that need help. There are also lots of people who want just attention, I tell you, don’t do it this way. Print some of the worst photos and look at them when you feel the need to cut yourself and try cutting a teddybear or a doll instead of your arm.


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