Psyke.org

Kittie

Can’t Help It

Copyright, Kittie

I have been harming since I was about twelve. It started after I realized no one really gave a crap about me and that wasn’t going to change no matter how many times I try. There is no help for me besides websites and friends because my mother denies I do it and she says I’m not crazy enough to go to a shrink. Mom thinks only bad people go there. Plus, I have done it recently because a little over five months ago, I lost the best friend I’ve ever had. He had just turned sixteen and so proud. But that pride only lasted nine days, I believe. He hung himself. It hurt like hell to hear about it. That was the only person I’ve ever trusted. And then early this past sunday morning I got online to talk to my friend, who I will call Monk (his old nickname). He asked me to view his webcam so I said sure. I then watched as he told me he loved me and if I didn’t want him, no one else would and he sliced his arms from his wrists to his elbow (on the underside) and then proceeded to cut his throat open because the blood wasn’t flowing fast enough for him and then proceeded to watch his roommate whom I have also known for a while, walk in and discover his body and then kill himself. Two friends who I had to watch in horror as they killed themselves. Monk knew I cared about him. I was the only person who probably really did. I couldn’t help him when I realized it was more than friends that he loved me as. He was like my older brother, what was I supposed to do? I broke his heart and basically killed him with his hands. This has hurt me horribly and I’m craving the pain only a knife or blade can give me. It is a release for me and I’ve lost mine. I had gone two months without a single cut up until around december 27th, when my friend called me and we started going out. His name is John. But, he didn’t want me doing anything from that day forward with any other guy or with my girlfriend. What was I supposed to do? Hole up somewhere and tell the girl I love with all of me that I couldn’t see her because of my asshole boyfriend? Well, me and John got into a fight which ended with both of us hanging up on the other and crying. I found my blade (luckily I brought it with me, I was also at my aunt’s house) and just cut my pain away. My cousin and her friend watched in horror as I cried and cut and licked my blood to keep it from staining my clothes. How can you get help when people are always screwing you up and hurting you like all my friends do. How are we supposed to react? All my friends are cutters also, as is my girlfriend. All I’m asking is help and please email me. I’m about to be seventeen and I really want someone who will understand me and not provoke me in anyway to want to run away.

Hate

Copyright, Kittie

I have been abused sexually and otherwise since I can remember. I was raped by my best friend when I was in 4th grade and it’s a memory burned into my brain for the rest of eternity. How can anyone go through stuff such as that and not hurt? But, I’m trying to quit and it’s not easy. Cutting has become my escape and punching things has become a stress reliever. Plus, a friend of mine has just gotten her life back in order. And I’m trying to find an older friend of mine. Her name on here is Rayne and I want someone to tell her to e-mail me, or at least talk to me. Angel, you know who I am. I’m cods, but on here, this is my name and I’m now known as Kittie at school. I hope you see this and get back to me! But back to my story. The reason I started cutting is because my father left and my whole life fell to pieces and I ran away so many times, yet I was brought back to the family who hated me! I hope others see what I’ve done and opt out of doing it.

Kittie’s Story

Copyright, Kittie

I am twenty years old and have been a cutter for nearly five years. I am bipolar and dissociate, and have had much pain and adversity in my life. When I began at the age of fifteen, I was severely depressed, suicidal, and had repressed memories of being horribly abused at a younger age. What began as an experiment to see if I could go through with a suicide attempt ended in finding feelings of relief and pleasure from my internal pain by causing worse external pain. Before I knew it, I was cutting and burning my skin on a regular basis as my depression worsened. For several months, it was nearly a daily occurence. It became a true addiction. I believed I needed the release and co-occuring feelings of numbness and even pleasure my SI caused me. I began therapy within six months, though it wasn’t for nearly two years that it barely focused on nor helped my SI at all. With the help of my fiance, several very supportive friends, a therapist and a psychiatrist, I began to dedicate myself to ridding myself of my dangerously harmful habit. At the age of seventeen my illness took a considerable turn for the better. While I still have episodes, mostly related to my dissociative disorder, my ability to resist my urges keeps getting stronger, my resolve to stop completely growing with time. I now cut only once or twice every couple months, compared to almost daily four years ago. I still have episodes, but the addiction to it is gone. I think about it all the time, but now I have the reasons and strength to stop myself most of the time. I no longer believe I must find relief from my negative emotions in physical pain, and can talk myself out of my urges with far less effort. My scars are fading, and with them goes so much anger, pain, and shame only my fellow sufferers can understand.

Untitled

Copyright, Kittie

drip, drop
into my brain
silver tears of entropy
disturb the silence
shatter the dream
a ripple on a dead mirror
awakens me.

Untitled

Copyright, Kittie

Floating in strange patterns of red; light…
Feelings as though I was not myself…
In the mirror of the broken, where death sleeps soundly, hidden.
I saw the reflection as shards of glass, forming a broken puzzle…
If only we knew what it meant…

Untitled

Copyright, Kittie

I hate the shadows of the storm
They play with my soul
And make me cry
When in vision I dream of desire
Life would soar higher than
Ever it could
Crimson tears would no longer fall
No longer trickle off the
Edge of the moon
Boiling icicles no longer
Puncture the Earth
Laughter of madness haunt me no more
Mercury Hell, release me to be
All I would love and treasure in me
There are fires of blue
Deep as the sea
I bury them deep
In my blood, in my heart
When the madness creeps up
And I can’t stand
The struggle takes over and I am no more
The fires so blue escape from within
And scald my veins so I must release them
I tear a sliver of moon and hold it up high
It streaks low and slices, but I don’t cry
The fires boil crimson and burn
Over my skin
Subsiding the madness
Evading the pain
Till crystalline demise threatens again

 

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