Copyright, Lifeless

I never and still don’t believe my life is or was that bad, I’m only eighteen so I guess I can’t say “was” yet, but it was about six months ago when I started cutting myself. It started off with an argument with my boyfriend. Yeah I know, stupid reason, but I was apparently “unaware of how to express my emotions”, fat chance, I grabbed a knife and started to slice. I only did two cuts the first time and they were just barely deep enough for a small amount of blood to seep out. I thought that since I had only done two cuts and they weren’t deep I didn’t have a problem. After a few days I did it again, I wasn’t upset at all when I did it, I just felt like I needed to. After that I realized the reason I cut myself to begin with probably had nothing to do with my boyfriend other than the fight with him being my match to light my short fuse. I had been very stressed, it started the summer between my junior and senior year of high school, my grandma who was on dialysis wanted to stop doing it, wanted to give up, the doctors gave her a week two at the most but she survived it, she then decided to move to Las Vegas to live with my aunts and start her dialysis again, whew. It was then that I had learned about my dad (my parents have been divorced since I was seven and my step-dad moved in directly after my dad left) was voluntarily going to war on my 18th birthday (happy fricken birthday hunny), well as you can guess I was really stressing that and the cutting just got more and more frequent and deeper and deeper. My mother, kind of an alcoholic, then cheats on my step-father with my music teacher’s (and one of my best friends mom’s) husbands, and who did I hear it from, my worst enemy from school, I didn’t even get to hear it at home first to prepare myself. Now back to my boyfriend he travels back and forth between here and college whenever he gets a chance, OK he used to drink. A lot. Well the first incident of his drinking was cheating on me with one of my close friends and then taking my virginity the next night and me getting to hear about the whole thing in biology class. Yes! And when he would drink, he would kind of beat me up but because he loved me he stopped drinking… As much. (Yeah, I know people, I should have left him, but I didn’t.) My dad called me yesterday and left me an address to send him carepackages over in Afghanistan, let’s just say for every day he is in war, it’s another two cuts on my arm. I am trying very hard to stop, my boyfriend is the only person to know about this and I know it hurts him to see me do this, I wear a WWJD (what would Jesus do) band on my left arm (the one I cut) so I will see that whenever I feel like I need to cut myself.


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