No Reason Why

Copyright, Krista

The first time I ever cut was when I was about eleven years old; to my wrist and with my nail. I do not remember why I cut but it is clear to me as day how it happened. Although the cut did not go very deep, it still bled and I became transfixed with the sight of my own blood. Since then the cuts got deeper and more in number. The scars are also hidden so that my boyfriend can not see them, on my hips and thighs. When he and I met, he was also a cutter and diagnosed with depression. He was sixteen, I was fourteen. He no longer cuts and disapproves of me cutting. So I hide it from him. I am now sixteen and have never been diagnosed with depression, however, cutting always seems to be a way for me to escape the daily stresses and pressures. My mother only noticed once in freshman year and other than that, almost denies me to have a problem. And so I cut. I can no longer tell if I cut because I feel nothing or if I cut to feel nothing. But all I know is that when I am able to see the blood trickle down my legs and arms, there is an overwhelming sense of calm. Am I suicidal? No. Am I even depressed? No. But I do know that it is the cutting that seems to get me through it all. And I won’t be stopping anytime soon.


Copyright, Krista

When I was eleven years old I wanted to kill myself. I jumped off my balcony only to get slightly bruised. When I turned twelve I had moved again. Always the moving never a home. I tore my arm’s skin into shapes of X’s. When I was thirteen I carved an L into my arm and some other things, my mother caught me, so I decided to make it less noticeable. Now I am fourteen I have cut my breasts, my arms, my hips, pelvic area and tummy. The last time I did it, two days ago on my arm with a key. It feels so good to let out the rage inside. My weapons: razor blades, knives, safety pins, bracelets, anything sharp and metalish. I feel guilty and sad sometimes. I really wish I could stop doing it. If only someone loved me enough to care.

My Story

Copyright, Krista

I cut and all my friends have tried to figure out why and help me. What most people don’t understand is that if someone cuts that is a way to get out anger and frustration that you can’t explain or just say. So you get it out by inflicting pain on yourself and when people try to ask you what’s wrong or why they cut it is very hard to tell them because if we could tell them we wouldn’t cut in the first place.


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