The Shortened Story of my Life

Copyright, Kiki

Well in 7th grade I guess it was just the whole teenager thing but it’s lasted way too long for comfort. Anytime I get yelled at or dumped suddenly my life isn’t worthwhile. I know I sound like some gay ass poser but that’s how it is. Any ways, then there are the times when I’ve got something sharp and the ‘seemingly’ right thing to do is cut myself no matter where it is or how much it really hurts. This is just now starting to seem odd as I am finding more people that do it. My boyfriend used to. I do not hold it against him of course knowing at the same time he doesn’t hold it against me. In 7th grade also I took up choking. Whenever I am really stressed out choking always seems to help. Of course I wouldn’t sling myself up in a hangman position I had a friend die like that for the same reason I do it, but it really helps. The only way my parents found out about my ‘problem’, or so they call it, is one day I was at a friends house for a birthday party and me and the current boyfriend were fighting because he was checking her out, and out of nowhere I realise I’m choking myself. This was only the second or third time I had done it you realise. The next thing I know my boyfriend is holding my arms behind my back and my friend’s mom is calling my parents. They come over and they are freaking out. They ask if I’ll be OK and I say ‘yeah, of course’, and my friend gives me these ‘stress balls’ they look like those sex toys is what some of my friends say but anyways. The other big times I did that was at school. I had gotten in another fight and my PE class was out playing soccer and I was still in the gym (the teacher never knew) choking myself behind the bleachers. It really wasn’t choking myself that time I was trying to break my trachea I was so pissed off at every one. I got to the point where it hurt so bad I figured it wasn’t worth it any more, so I stopped and went to play soccer with the class. I didn’t really play but I went out there. My parents think I’m a psycho and my friends are always really scared when I’m pissed off. Not like I didn’t get what I wanted (I’m not that spoiled or a brat). But like when someone is talking shit on me or something to where it’s bad enough I really want to hurt them. I just tried cutting a few years ago. I’m in 10th grade now. And I’m sixteen, almost seventeen.


Copyright, Kiki

I’m thirteen and I’ve been cutting since I was twelve. I’m turning fourteen in a month. I cut when I’m mad or sad or confused. My boyfriend is really helping me stop doing it. I use blades from razors and scissors and knifes. I’m not proud that I do this and I don’t want people to see my scars. Only one of my close friends knows and my boyfriend, who I love with all my heart, knows. My best friend did cut then she got caught then stopped told me it was stupid and then started again. She hasn’t done it lately because when she does her boyfriend gets mad. I found this site last week and I like it because it’s not telling me to stop doing what I want to do.


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