Just Now

Copyright, Matt

I’ve written here before and figured this would be the place to come if I had anything to say. Actually I just cut about five minutes ago and was hoping that there’d be someome to talk to about it. I’m alone here (as usual) in N.M., the worst place in the fuckin world. Everyone says it’s the most beautiful place in America; ‘The Land of Enchantment’. I don’t think so. Not anymore. I’ve heard people say that there’s always someone to talk to. Fuckin liars. Who is here to help me? No one. I cut very deep and am having a hard time writing now. Don’t wanna bleed on the keyboard, you know. This site is the only thing I have to talk to now, or ever for that matter (much appreciated, by the way). I told my mom about my cutting the other day. She slapped me and told me that I was sick in the head. She said I need help. What the hell? When I try to get help from the person who cares most I get put down. Fuck that. I’ve given up on love. It’s not real anymore. When someone says they love you it really means that they’re there until something better comes along. That’s love for you. I remember being in love. It was the greatest feeling in the world. I felt wanted, needed even. That’s gone now. I feel like such a pussy now for feeling love. Now all I do is cry. Why do I cry? I’m a guy. That’s even worse. I don’t know if it’s OK or not to cry, that’s why I cut. I was going good there for a while: one month. But I couldn’t stop bawling. Like the litte bitch I am. But when I cut it all goes away. The slate is wiped clean. It’s like draining out the pain and sin. Blood, pain, and blades are my only love now. The blood has stopped, finally. If there’s anyone out there that’s reading this I have a question for you: Why is loneliness and pain the only thing left for us? Every time a connection is made it is ripped apart by who knows what. Maybe it’s God. No, why would he do that? He ‘loves’ us all, right? Is there even a God? Well, if anyone feels that they can answer my questions go ahead and e-mail me. My screen name should be listed somewhere round here. I’d be very glad to hear from you.

Wounded Heart

Copyright, Matt

My story begins at the early ages of my teenage times. I’m twenty-five years old now and still deal with self hatred and self cutting. I was raised in a good moraled household with loving parents and family, but it’s the feeling of rejection that was from my classmates and from strangers. I’m just a normal guy, shy, but normal. There is nothing to tease me about or look down on me about. Anyway, I would get a lot of inner madness inside myself and having a history of quick temper, that was easy. So, whenever I would feel rejected, I would right away think of suicide, but I never got around in actually doing so and I thank God now that I didn’t. When I would go through these episodes, I would do things such as; headbutt my wall until I fall down out to punching a hard part of the wall until my knuckles bled, all the way to where I take a scissors or sharp object and start carving my skin until I would blerd and the sick part of it was that I wanted to see more blood. My story ends with me getting married, I changed myself around (I found the Lord) and I am happier than I was. Listen everyone. We don’t have the right to destroy our bodies like we do. The Lord bore all of that so that we don’t have to do all this to ourselves. He took our place. Don’t put yourself though this. We are just hurting ourselves and others. Let’s stop the pain, please! In conclusion, I struggle, oh boy I do and I had an episode again the other day, but my heart felt troubled and I fell on my knees and gave it all to God and talked to Him. God is there everyone. God is there. Believe me from experience. God is there and he will listen. He cares for you and he loves you. Enough to go though a lot for you so you don’t have to go through pain. Thanks for reading my story and hope that something I said helps.


Copyright, Matt

It all started about a year or two ago. My brother was very suicidal and all the fights that him and my parents would have. I would sit in my room, listening to the stupid shit my mom was bitching at him for. He could do nothing right, it was all my parents fault. I followed in his footsteps, only I am different in one way. To relieve my stress, I like to cut myself. To all of you that do it, you know how well it relieves stress and after you do it, you feel so relieved. I feel no pain, I recently cut my arm that I had to get stitches. Pain, none, excitement of blood, high. I love the sight of blood. I go to a psychiatrist for it but he doesn’t do shit for me. I like to cut myself even when I’m not depressed. Speaking of which, I suffer from depression. But I’ve tried everything from music, writing, driving, running, punching, you name it, I tried it. Nothing works like the cuts. I don’t like to cut myself deep because I’m too lazy to have to go to the ER. I just like the little scratches, enought to bleed and run down your arm, but not deep enough for stitches. The scars are what most excites me, I think they look cool. To me, I feel as it shows how tough you are. Weird, I guess, it’s just how I feel. But for any of you fellow cutters out there, if you need someone to talk to, email me. I’ll give you my AIM screen name, because I know I really need to talk to people sometimes. If you do email me, make the subject “I cut myself too”, so I won’t delete it thinking it’s chain mail bullshit. Thanks for reading.


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