Death Days

Copyright, Lindsey

This is so hard for me to think about for I blocked it out long ago, but I want to share my story with others like me.

I was eleven years old when I started to cut myself but the pain started way before that. My family was never anywhere near stable. Always moving away due to drug habits and problems. My dad is a drug addict. Addicted to meth and marijuana, and my mom is an ex-addict. I myself am now an ex-addict and I’m only a freshman in high school. I thought that I would be accepted by my dad if I just started to do drugs. It’s hard for me to understand why I did it all the way I did though. My mom is stable now. She is the best mom for me. The only mom for me. I’ve been put in hospitals and counselling. I take pills for being bipolar and schizophrenic and manic depressive but nothing can heal this pain but a sharp blade to the body. It feels like all the pain goes away for a little while. While the blood flows down it feels like I am going to feel better but I only feel worse. Living with this pain in my life is nothing I would want anyone else to go through. It hurts worse than just pain and fear it’s like being locked in a little room and never fed or never watered. It’s just aloneness. That’s how it feels sometimes. Alone. I now can’t be alone or I go crazy I just lash out on myself every time I am alone. I hear voices telling me to do things. It’s the life of a sorrowful cutter with no one and nothing to turn to. Every time I cut I call it my death day.


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