Copyright, Moldybutt

It all started when I was in 7th grade. I was just becoming friends with my best friend and she didn’t want to talk to me. So I got depressed and stuff. I had never had real friends before, so I was really happy when she wanted to be my friend.

So one night I sat up on my bed and tried to go deep in my skin with a pocket knife my dad gave me. It really didn’t work. So I gave up. But then every night I did that until it finally got deep. I started to use kitchen knives after I used those. After a while they got kind of out of hand, so I told my friend that didn’t want to talk to me. I told her because she was my best friend at that time.

I am not one of those people that have no friends. I have a lot but I just really wanted this popular girl to be my friend.

So after all this I was getting even worse with my cutting. And this time I was using a razor. But on Christmas eve my mom found my cuts and I had to go see this guy Peter. I hate him a lot and never say anything. My dad and I am not really close so it puts more stress on me. I cut because of stress. And so I finally stopped for two months because my mom knew. But after the two months I started again. I liked using the razor. I told my friend that I did. My new friend I made in the school year.

Cutting is my drug and if I found an anti drug I would stop. I hate myself for cutting myself. Just yesterday I went crazy and drew on myself with pencil and really hurt my arm. I need cutting.

I won’t be like everyone. Because you know you can read any of these stories and say ‘wow, they are here to help’. But I support all of you to stop and never start, but I hate it when people go ‘oh, and here’s my email if you want to talk’ if you guys need help then look me up. I am sure it won’t be that hard.

So, yeah, I am still a cutter and wish I would stop. But, yeah, I ended up burning my razors and my pocket knives my friend has. And my mom does not know I started again. Because I am that sneaky. So, yeah, my story really sucks.


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