This is Me

Copyright, Kitkat

I started to cut myself when I was in the eighth grade, I was 13 at the time. I don’t know why I started, I had a good life, lots of friends and a loving boyfriend, or why I continued to do it but I did. It was a few weeks before christmas and we were putting up our tree when my mom saw. I had a long heavy sweatshirt on and I took it off and put one of hers on and the sleeves were loose. She freaked out because she deals with these things at work (she works at a home for the mental ill and challenged). She called my aunt who does the same thing as her and eventually brought me into the emergency room. We were there for over five hours while they did tests on me. They talked to my mom and decided that the best thing for me to do was to go see a psychiatrist. I didn’t really like him much (I think he had more problems than me). Mom told him she thought I did it because I was raped by my uncle as a kid. More than once. Or because I never “got enough attention.” But I know it wasn’t. But I saw him twice and they did more tests on me for ADHD, ADD etc. Well they found out I have hypothyroidism, a life long disease. They gave me meds and said the cutting should stop, but it didn’t. Here I am, 16 years old and still cutting. Not as often and not where anyone can see. But sometimes the worst ones are those that you can’t see.

Lately things have been getting worse. I’m called a whore every day and I carved into my arm now. My boyfriend’s cheating on me and I don’t know how to deal with it. I am a 16 year old female who hates her life. The only good things in my life are my friend, my boyfriend and my poetry. Now all I have left is my poetry. Please give advice to me:


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