The Mess Up

Copyright Nikkie

I’m Nikkie and I’m fifteen. I have cut for about nine years and can’t go over five months without cutting again. OK, well, this story would have to start when I was seven, yes seven. My mother was in to doing drugs. My father not there, my brother in his own house with his girlfriend. It was my seventh birthday and that week was wonderful. Then two days passed and on the second day it was crazy. Everyone was at my grandparents house, mom was crying. The next thing I knew I was being pulled by the arm out to a car. My sister-in-law and her friend took me shopping. I asked what was going on and they said nothing and to forget about it, so, I did. When we got back I was happy and thought nothing of what happen earlier till my mother pulled me in to the room and told me that she had to go away for a while (now let me tell you that me and my mother were really close and I was never apart from her). She said that she had to go or she would die. So she went and I went with my brother. I had a friend that hurt herself on purpose and told me to try it and it would help take the pain away from missing my mother. So she riped out my hair. Little did I know that the riping of my hair would lead to cutting but before cutting was burning, eraser burns, biting and so on. Those four months went by faster when I could control the pain for sadness with the pain I inflicted. Then it was christmas. I was opening a gift from my brother when the front door opened. “Mommy” she was back. I was so happy. Everything was fine, mom was back, I was liveing with her just fine, well my outside was happy but I couldn’t stop inflicting pain. Then the next month she left again. Same problem, I didn’t now why she was leaving me again. At the time I thought she didn’t love me. So I went and lived with my brother again, this time in a new state, Colorado. I had to hide this deep secret from my family and friends for six to seven years before my friend found out. My mother came home then I had to move and leave all my friends in Colorado and make new ones in MI. We lived in a little town called Petoskey. It sucked. It didn’t help that I didn’t know anyone, it just made it worse. I was cutting more and more every day. First it was just little lines nothing really then it became long, deep lines. I didn’t have friends in Petoskey, my mother thought I did because I would pay people to come over and things that friends would do. I was about thirteen when my mother saw the line. She asked and I said that the cat did it when I was playing with her. That summer came and I went to Colorado to spend time with my brother. When I got there I told him that I didn’t want to go back to Petoskey because I had no friends. He told my mother and she said I could stay. Then he saw the lines. That was it, they took everything away that I loved. I had nothing, when I mean nothing I mean nothing they took all my stuff away and tried to make me into somthing that I wasn’t. They made me wear bright colors and I had to ask to shave my legs. I was pissed. I still found ways to cut but they didn’t know. Then we moved to a different house. It was OK, I could still see my firneds but I had to go to a different school. Again with new friends. I found some and one, she said she was my best friend and she knew what I did. She goes and tells my brother. When he found out he put me into a hospital. When I got out things were OK for a while. I met someone I loved him and when he hit me I though he loved me too, but that just made the cutting come back, the pain the sorrow, sadness. I couldn’t take it anymore. That went on for about a year and a half. Then my closest friends died. One an OD and the other suicide and her five month old son. That just pushed me over the cliff. Couldn’t take it anymore my life, no one loved me, well that’s what it felt like. I stated up again not even a month. I don’t think I’ll ever be reborn. I’m fifteen now and I went to another hospital so that’s two. I’ve been in and out of therapist, on and off meds. None have helped me. The only thing that has helped me is cutting and I know that that’s not going to stay in the closed for long. It never has. My mother, brother, whole family just do not understand that I can’t just stop, I’m too far down the road to just stop. it doesn’t just take the sadness and mental pain away I for some sick and twisted way love seeing the blood drip out of my body. It’s like when I cut all the weight of life has been lifted off my shoulders. For anyone who needs to talk about anything I’m there. I’ve been through it all in my short lifetime. So you can e-mail me at

Trying to Survive

Copyright Nikkie

I’m a fifteen year old that you would probably put into the category of a cutter or a goth or even a punk and I know putting labels on people is wrong but that’s why I am the way I am. I cut because people put labels on me and they make fun of me all the time spreading rumours and all that good stuff. I hate myself and I have five suicide attempts but they (the people I care about) won’t let me die. The first attempt was after my boyfriend of three years cheated on me. I loved him so much but I have promised my dad I would not have sex until I was married and I hate my parents for caring so much. I want them to just not care so I can die. I have been cutting since I was thirteen and I found out that I can remind my self of why I am so messed up and the past. I know why I cut and that is because I need to remind myself of the past on a daily basis. I have the ability to dream and hold on to those dreams but I never go anywhere with them. I love music and drawing and I have a current boyfriend that I care about a lot but I enjoy being alone and now that the summer is here I feel the need to be alone more than ever and I like the dark and knowing that my room is pitch black and that I can go in there and cut is a great relief I like to see my blood by the candle light. Oh yeah, did I tell you that I took all the electric lights out of my room? I like to lick my blood off of my arm leg or whatever I cut. I hate my life but it seems that I just won’t die.


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