Copyright Nora

I hear my parents screaming, but all I see is the blade piercing my skin. So comforting knowing that this is the one thing that I have control of. Tiny cuts. The yells grow louder. Bigger cuts. The topic of argument turns to me. I go insane. The razor scrapes my skin, over and over. Couldn’t stop if I tried.

This is how it is. My name is Nora. I’m a freshman in highschool. I got in trouble for cutting last year too, while I was in 8th grade. It just made it worse. I was punished, as if I had done something wrong. So confused I was. Wondering why this was happening to me. Then I stopped. This might have had something to do with all the pills I was taking, but I don’t know. Then I got off the pills. Reality sunk in. I started cutting again, once again, to feel alive. I cut today. I cut last night. I cut the night before in the bathroom of a concert. I have a boyfriend now, Justin. My long time crush. I don’t want him to know. I want to stop, but it seems like I can’t. Sometimes, I don’t even remember doing it. Last night, when I cut, I didn’t realise that I was doing it. I woke up this morning with a razor under my pillow. Help me.


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