My Personal Story

Copyright, Lotus

I’ve been cutting since I was 12. I was first doing it out of small reason like thinking I was “in love” all the time. But it’s been such a habit after a few months. Then, I was really depressed. After the first few months of cutting, I’ve noticed I also gained a little weight, which made me slit my wrist even more. I didn’t care about anything, I didn’t think the world revolved around me anyway. I never did it out of attention, really. I covered my arms with a jacket or long sleeves all the time to even show people. I couldn’t even show my best friends in which I tell them everything. When I turned 13, things got worse. The razor didn’t have to just cut on my arms, but on my legs too. I sliced my legs and thighs. It all stopped for a while when I had my first real relationship. But it was only a month and a half that I was happy. And yet again, I began to cut again. My second relationship came, and I didn’t really know what to do. Everytime I was lost and confused, I always thought cutting myself was the answer to everything. I stopped again when I was in my third relationship. I was 14 at the time and still am at the moment. It was during summer, and I met him during summer school. Ever since we were together, I wanted to stop for him. I didn’t want him to see how doleful I was. With him, I was truly happy. I truly thought I was blessed to be with him. We shared our love to each other, mentally and physically. But his mother made us break up, and I was back to injuring myself again. Months passed and I tried to find every hidden body part of mine to carve. So far, it has been my wrist, my arm, my thigh, my stomach, my legs, and my ankles. I reaped my thigh with the word “crestfallen” and the whole of my ankle. I only slashed a bit on my stomach and legs. But when I finally realized I should stop was when I realized it became scars. After two months, it still didn’t go away. They were scars that will remind of me of what happened.

In the past, I wanted to die. I always believed I was brought here for no good reason because I was never payed attention to by anyone. But when I see the scars on my body leaving it’s trademark, I knew I had to stop. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I threw away my razors, I put up my scissors. I am now thankful for the fact that I’m still alive today. Even at 14, I had some rough times in the past and present.

I’m not saying I’m not depressed anymore, believe me, at times, I still am. I’m even tempted to going my old ways again, but I know deep down there are people out there who love me and care for me. They wish for me never to get hurt, so I’m trying to grant them their wish…


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