The Blood

Copyright, Josh

I’m 18 years old and I’ve been cutting now for a little over a year. My reason for cutting is honestly unknown to me. I do it to cope with life, I’ve had so many things happen to me that I don’t know how to deal with that I feel very dead, or hollow on the inside. I can’t or don’t deal with emotional pain very well, and my visits to the hospital from suicide attempts prove that. When I cut, it isn’t about having bragging rights or to get attention, I do it to get my mind off of the pain I can’t take, and that keeps me alive. If anyone wants to talk, e-mail me at

Empty on the Inside

Copyright, Josh

Lately I haven’t had many reasons to cut. I started out cutting for lots of reasons. Surprisingly though I haven’t had lots of problems lately (which is unusual for me). But I still cut. It used to be a coping method, or something to get my mind off the emotional/mental shit. It has become so much more than that now. I like to cut. As sick as that may sound to most people out there, it’s become a part of who I am. Literally. The scars all over my body, mostly on my arms and legs are constant reminders of this new found love I have. I’ve never really ever had anyone there to love me. I’ve always felt alone and different than everyone one else, even when I clearly wasn’t. Family is always supposed to accept you and love you no matter what, hell I don’t even have that anymore. This track I’m on is going nowhere but down-hill. I don’t care though. I never have. That’s the thing that I guess is the hardest to accept about all of this. I could have done something amazing with my life. I probably still could, I could have been the person my parents wanted me to be, or the kid everyone liked, hell I would have settled for the kid that didn’t have an alcoholic fuck-up for a dad. Oh well, you can’t pick the cards you’re dealt. You just have to make the best out of the situation you’re in. And in my opinion I have…

I Just Want to Know Why

Copyright, Josh

Tom Hanks said it best: ‘Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know which one you’re going to get.’ This analogy can and does apply to anyone’s life. Life is like a guessing game, it’s all guesswork. In a sense it is, and isn’t. Like the box, you never really know which flavor you’re going to get. You just have to randomly pick and hope for the best. Sometimes you’ll get lucky and pick your favorite kind, and other times you’ll get the kind you hate.

But to me and all the other depressed people out there, it seems like we’re always on the losing end of the deal. There are only so many ways the dice can roll, yet lady luck just seems to never smile upon us few. But that’s where cutting comes into play; it’s our trump card that we can pull out. It always starts off as a coping method or a way to show us we’re still alive. After we begin to do it for a while it ‘evolves’. We do it when we’re upset, we do it when we’re confused and eventually we do it just because it’s easier to do that. I started to cut because I was insecure, I felt alone, like there wasn’t anyone or anything out there to comfort me. Now I know that there is something out there…

I’ll never forget the day that I found god… He’s in my razor blade.


Copyright, Josh

Aren’t we all tired of being alone. Feeling distanced from everyone else. Even before we started hurting ourselves. It all felt the same. It never really hit me before but I finally realized that depression is a cycle, not a down-hill spiral, as everyone seems to think. You go through periods of being really really down, then there are those few precious days that we seem to think everything might be OK. Those couple days, in my life anyway, are few and far between. And it’s sad that the only thing I have left to look forward to are those sporadic days, because then I don’t feel the need to cut.

I recently talked to a person who didn’t cut, but thought that it was really ‘cool’, and that person said that ‘our’ lives are just more interesting than other’s. (This isn’t the only person I’ve met who thought the same, either.) As if the reasons we cut aren’t already bad enough. Now there are actually people out there who think that it’s cool. I hate what I do to myself with every ounce of who I am. I couldn’t even possibly begin to imagine someone who would want to do this, especially because they thought it was cool. I’ve grown to hate this, and myself. And no matter how isolated I felt, or hoped I was, this isn’t just a small problem anymore. It’s becoming almost like an epidemic, kids used to do all kinds of crazy shit to fit in. I know I did, or at least tried to. Now I’ve found kids who are doing this to ‘fit in’.

I haven’t cut in a long time. Nor do I miss it. Everyone has their own reasons for starting, and stopping. Losing my sister because she wanted to be like her big brother was more than enough for me. I still feel alone and depressed, but I’m working on it. And I know that deep down my sister would have wanted this for me.

I love you…

Looking Back

Copyright, Josh

When I stop and just think, what comes to mind, nothing comes to mind except me and my cutting. I’ve stopped for quite a while now, and I’m beggining to think that I’m slowly recovering from it. When I look back on the reasons behind why I cut myself, well, now I could see how stupid they were. But they were decisions made from desperation. Better yet they were decisions made from sheer ignorance. All of the reasons behind why I cut I had hoped that one day I could forget them. But now I have these purple scars all over my body that won’t ever let me forget. I miss when things were simple, I miss having a normal life. If in fact I ever had one. Cutting is a temporary solution, to life-long problems, and that’s why it’s so hard to quit. People mask what really bothers them with more pain, and that’s what I tried to do for so long. But eventually I realized you can’t run forever. Eventually you’ll hit a wall.

I’ve tried to face my problems, but I’ve never solved any of them. Truthfully I don’t know how to. Medicine won’t help. Doctor’s told me there’s a chemical imbalance in my brain, and they can make everything feel OK again with medicine. How the hell can they make what happened to me better with a single little white pill? Therapists don’t help any either. I don’t want to talk about what happened to me, I want to forget it, and let it go. Not bring all those painful memories back up to a stranger who doesn’t care and just wants my money.

I can’t fix what’s already been done, but I can shape what will happen. Do I miss cutting? Well that’s a complicated answer. Yes and no. I miss the relief and rush it gave me, but I don’t want that ever again, because I know I’m better off without it. I don’t know what will happen to me ultimately, no one does. But I can say this much. With all of this behind me, all the things I’ve come out on top of, where else but up do I have to go?


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