Short Stories

Well, I probably have a better life compared to most people, but, for me it sucks. Anytime I feel pain I want to die so I cut and cut and cut. Everywhere, anywhere, anytime. At first I was worried about people and my parents finding out, bow I could care less. And my parents suck, guys, friends and life. How else can I feel better, but, that?

I started cutting myself when I was twelve years old and I quit a year ago. I am now twenty-four years old and I still have really bad urges to cut myself all the time. I can not even give advice on what makes me not do it now, I just don’t. I think maybe I have gone so long that I think that if I do it I will be back at square one. Cutting is an addiction and I think that it will be with me for the rest of my life. I just don’t think long term. I just take it one day at a time. For all of you that do cut yourself there is hope.

What is depression? Depression is me, I’m a dissapointment to everone, especially me. My days are so bad to where I cry really bad. Sometimes I wonder if there is people out in the world who is depressed as bad as me, which is not possible, because other people have people who care about them. Me, does it fucking look like I live a happy life? Hell no, I just wish that people would open their eyes, and realise how I feel, but that will never happen. Some people say that I have gone insane maybe I have, maybe I haven’t, but nobody will know or understand depression until they have met me. So fuck the world, the world is so cruel, so help me God, please take mercy upon me.

I haven’t cut in a little over two years. At first I was ashamed of my scars. Now I am proud of them. They remind me of what I have been through and the fact that I was strong enough to get through it. I no longer feel the need to cut and I have gained a sort of fondness for my scars. I wouldn’t ever get rid of them. They show me what I was and how much better I am now. It does get better, just hold on.

Why does life have to hurt so much? My pain is really as my heart has been ripped in two. What could put someone through this much pain. To make them wish to end their life. As the salty tear drops run down my face. The knife slits the wrist of what used to be a life.

My name’s Ashley. I’m fourteen and I’ve been cutting for about a year and I love it. I can’t stop and I won’t stop. I cut when I feel like it. Seeing the blood bubbles on my arm and feeling the pain is a big part of my life. It’s like a high. And I don’t want help.

I’m sixty years old and still cutting and burning. It is the only way I can feel and let the evil out.

Since I was thirteen I kept switching from cutting, anorexia, drinking, drugging, and sex. I am now sober, but I can’t stop abusing things that are my identity. I realize it comes from lack of attention and molestion and rape from when I was little. Now I’m eighteen, my cuts have faded but I can’t stop cutting, but what is weird is that I will bleed a lot, but won’t scar. I want to escape but I’m noticing there is no way out.

I’m a cutter in recovery, and will be for the rest of my life, because there is no point I will ever reach where I can honestly say to myself ‘I will never go this road again’. I started two years ago, and though it’s rare now, I will never forget it. It started because I was scared of being found out as a lesbian by my parents, and it will continue because I was found out by my parents.

Before my brother died I was so depressed and did not know what to do. It all started out in the 7th grade. I was cutting myself real bad and I could not stop. When I hit that 9th grade I continued again and now it got bad. I don’t do it much. I’m too scared because before my brother died he was the one that stopped me and since he died I do it again. I need help and I’m trying my best not to do it.

I want to tell my school counsellor I cut, but if I do, she’ll tell my parents, and then from there I don’t know what will happen. I want help, I need help, but I am afraid, because my parents are not the type to seek professional help, they say ‘if you try, you’ll get better’, at least, I think they’ll say that. Their answer to everything is ‘try’. Well, I have tried, but I can’t stop.

This is for all those who have died, left me, moved on… I have only memories now… and my scars.

Young girl all alone, living a life of madness. She cuts, she bleeds, she cries. She acts like everythings fine but inside she screams for help. Noone hears her and she keeps on suffering. She has given up on life. Her heart aches and her wrists burn. The slits that were once small now turn into deep gashes. Her arms are painted in red for everyone to see.

I thought I had a boyfriend that loved me but I just found out I didn’t. I’m so confused, my minds tangled up. I see nothing but spinning. I wish I had someone who was there for me but I don’t so I guess I’ll just tear up this poem and cut my life away, see you some other day.

I’m eleven years old and I cut myself with safety pins and earrings. I haven’t cut myself for about a month now. Don’t ever start.

I am thirty-three years old. I divorced two years ago very badly. My ex was cheating on me with his twenty-two year old cousin. I drank a lot for a while but I read about cutting a week ago and haven’t stopped yet. It reduces all my stress to see the blood flowing out of the cuts on my upper leg (made a mistake with hands and arms and I’m still explaining the Band-Aids).

I’m seventeen and I cut and have since I was seven. It sucks. There’s no other words for it, it’s not painful, devastating, horrible, etc. These are all words I hear people use to describe self harm but to me this is no longer true. I cannot feel the pain anymore. This is not how anyone wants to be.

My name’s Cat. I’m fourteen years old and I’ve been a self injurer since I was twelve. Mostly I just cut but recently I’ve started burning myself. I really wish I could stop. But it’s like every time I try to stop something happens and I start cutting again.

I’m hiding inside. My pain covered by the vague smile. I can’t help but hate all the stuff I hide. Now, every second is something, something so wrong, it’s right. Every second I think, I’ll take my life… I am hating inside. All the emotions consume my heart. I can’t help but hate all the love inside. Every moment is nothing, nothing’s been so right. Every moment I think, I’ll take my life.

I can’t see a future for me. I lost my vision somewhere along my life. I know I’m not meant to be here. My arms take the pain that I place upon them.

All that pain, all them times, all that misery, what he did to me, what they all did, what they said, what actions did I take… it lead to this.

I am running away this pain is too real. Help me, that’s what I need, that’s what I want but I am too scared. My parents know but think I quit a year ago. Help, that’s what I need, that’s what I want. I am tierd of looking for sharp objects. I am tired of being hot so no one sees.

I don’t know why I do it but it feels good at the moment. But the day after I feel like a failure. My girlfriend is all I have and I love her. I have tried to quit but it’s hard.

There comes a time in everyone’s life where they hate themselves, and according to the statistics, there comes a time in one out of ten people’s lives where they act upon it in the form of self harming. I am one of those people, and my problem has grown out of control, the cuts are too deep to heal instantly. But I’m just a fourteen year old girl, and I’m hollow, and alone, and I don’t want to wake up in the morning. There came a time in my life, where I picked up the razor for the very first time, and never put it back down.

I am fifteen and have cut myself for just about two years. I want to quit, but I can’t. It makes me feel alive and at the same time takes some of the pain away. I’ve thought about telling my mom but I’m afraid she wouldn’t understand. At this moment I feel like just taking a razor blade and slitting my wrist… No one would care.

Hi, I am a cutter. All people in this world hate me. I don’t know why, but it’s a fact. I must do this. That’s the only one thing that makes me feel happy. It’s a special need. When I feel aggressive, I cut myself. When I’m sad, I still cut myself. I need it! Is it false? No, it’s perfect for me. Please tell me, why do you hate me? Am I so bad? I think so. I want to die.

I started to cut myself when I was thirteen years old! I’ve began with this, because I want to help all people from this world. I’m a bad person! I must punish myself! But now, I do this, because I feel so aggressive for so many people. People who were important for me. At one time. Now, these people hate me and, I think so, want to kill me. I don’t know, what I’ve done, but I know there is something that makes me bad. I haven’t got any friends. I don’t know why, but it is a fact. Why do they do it to me? Am I so terrible? I hate myself, I cut myself and all people look down on me. I feel like a monster. Because nobody wants to see me anymore. All these wounds crying now. They will be crying for the rest of my life. I am bloody fucking. And now I ask you why? Can you tell me?

I used to cut but I want everyone to know that there are other ways than just cutting, like poetry. I have a few on here and so does my girlfriend. That’s how we met and we no longer cut for each other. We found love and writing is one of those loves that we enjoy instead of cutting.

Is this the end? Am I finally losing control? I’m beginning to feel dizzy. I’m so confused. What’s wrong with me, what’s wrong with you? I can’t take it anymore. It’s time for me to let go and lose control…

I can’t remember the first time I cut, and now I have a really great friend who’s trying to help me stop… But I can’t. It is not a way of attention seeking. It is not a suicide attempt. It is my, and our, way of life…

I cut for many years, and sometimes I still do, but not as much as I used to. I know what it is like to get to that point. And I want to be there for anybody who needs to talk. I hate how people don’t understand it, and that is why I want to help those who need someone to listen.

I am 15 years old and I self harm, I am ashamed to know that I’m that weak. I just don’t know how else to deal with what is going on in my life at the moment, my mother is anorexic and tried to commit suicide many times in the past 4 years, it is horrible to know that your mother would rather kill herself than spend one more minute with you. My dad has had heart attacks because of the stress he is under and he never smiles any more. I just want my family back!

OMG, she is fine, look at what that freak is wearing, I hope people like me, I hope people respect me for who I am, I want to die. I am a teenage guy going through a rough time at school, at home, in my socail life, you name it I have a problem relating to it. I found this website and in ways it has helped me! I found that people were talking on SI and it helped them forget, helped them forget about their problem, and I found out that they were right! I wish I had some way out, I wish I could do something to make my life better, I wish, is just two words that dont mean anything!

I have been harming myself since I was 11 (5 years) and it’s got worse. As people find out, the worse I feel so the worse it becomes. I admit defeat and admit I need help, but I can’t turn to anyone, nobody I know understands this. That is why I find this page so helpfull. I haven’t seen the light at the end of the tunnel yet, but I’m hoping it comes soon.

I have been cutting for just under a year, I don’t think I have a reason, I was dragged to America at the age of 12 and I guess it fucked me up. At the age of 13 I just looked at the scissors one night and started, I dont get along with the mother so often after an argument is when I let go. Anything sharp and I use it. I have no pictures I am not proud enough of it. I ignore the “safe” notices, I don’t care, I will be dead soon.

I’m bipolar, and my oldest brother attempted to sodomize me at 9 years old and he was 16. (He is having a difficult time functioning as an adult and won’t get therapy. I attempted suicide at 19 and still am in therapy.) Making a long story short, I would tell myself at 40+ that I would cut myself before I let him violate me. How is that for running from yourself? People you have to think directively and pray to God and believe he is in your life no matter what you are going through. Even if it’s cutting, because when all is said and done it’s your life, and you can do or not do whatever you want, but you have to decide what that will be, and then slowly and gently make it happen.

My name is Rachel, I’m 13 and I’ve cut for only a few weeks. I hope I can stop but there seems to be this this rush that comes along with cutting. I wish to talk to some one but the only friend I can talk to with out being put down doesn’t want to talk about it. I wish anyone luck if they want to stop cutting. But I don’t know about me yet, should I stop or are my tears of blood better then the pain I go through when I don’t cut?

I am 14 and have been doing SI for 5 months. It has already become an addiction. This year I developed severe depression and ended up in a mental hospital. I thought about suicide a couple of times and even attempted it on my birthday. I burn, scratch, and do salt and ice. I’d really like someone to relate to. If you want to talk to me please email me. Thanks.

I started self injuring in November 2000. I had severe depression. It’s now August 2001. I’m ‘happy’ now. Everyone ‘important’ in my life knows that I had been. I used to use safety pins and razor blades. The last time I did that was in mid-July. Those marks are just too noticable. Now I scratch myself until I bleed, although those cits don’t look to pretty either. They look different, after awhile you have to come up with an excuse other than ‘my cat scratched me’. Lately I feel pathetic when I hurt myself, but it’s too addicting to give up.

I probably spend most of my time thinking of ways I can hurt myself without cutting as it’s becoming increasingly hard to hide the scars, i’ve already tried bulimia, anorexia, dehydration and exhaustion (first three didn’t last very long) and sometimes I still cut I know that someday I’ll eventually die but everytime I try to make things better it fails, every time I look for answers I find nothing.

Well, to start my story, 4 years ago I started getting panic attacks, some people may know what they are but for the people who dont, here is a brief summary. Basically (in my situation) I can’t go out anywhere, see friends go to school or answer the phone without getting nervous and panicking and can often lead into having a fit. This has been happening for 4 years and I have tried to get help with no success. I’m a lost cause, it’s also affecting my general health, I have 95% chance of heart disease due to the lack of blood reaching my heart while having these attacks. For me this is so depressing and finding it hard to cope with. I have a large social group and they all help me out but I dont think they could ever understand the tourment I have to go through. Through this depression I started cutting myself deeply all over my body, now its starting to have no effect, I have attempted suicide twice with no avail. so now im desparate and the moment I get my hands on a gun it will go through my head, I cant cope any longer, it has ruined my life.

I have a good life. Everyone looks at me at happiness. I achieve so much (too much) and when I dont achieve I go crazy. I have to be the best at everything and it hurts. I am known as always happy always friendly party gal etc. But I cut myself, not to die or anything but to feel the rush of pain to punish myself. I use razors for blood to come fast, and I use knifes to slowly tourture myself. I like it. My friend and boyfriend know I do it they proberly think its an attention thing. The thing is that I cut myself not only on my arms but also on my stomach, breasts and hips. The worst thing is that I am a serious swimmer and people see these marks sometimes. I have to tell people they are cat scratches, rose scratches etc.

I have became obselete and tainted. I feel the wispers of the one’s i cannot reflect upon. I try to listen to myself aswell as others but everything just slips away. I feel self-anguish and I try so much not to give in to my on pathetic way of self numbing. I feel pushed down sometimes and I stare blankly at the worlds tyranny,pondering my self-pity. Scar my body every tedious moment. I am but the quiet somebody in agony,dealing with cuts and wounds.

People see the scars look, stare — some even dare ask why do I do it? because I can. nobody else cares about me so why should I? You say you can help me but you cant take away the pain, you cant drain it from me like it seeps out in my blood. Nobody can.

I started sep 12. 1996 after telling of sexual abuse. I spent 19 months in treatment centers due to this. I had several visits to ER. I harmed myself both internally and externally.

Hey everyone I used to be a cutter and this place was my home my god send… Well I have moved on. I no longer cut don’t get me wrong in the weakest moment the thought might cross my mind but not likely… See all it took was the last time I cut, I cut all the way down to the fat in my thigh… A couple days later I was in a fitting room with my little sister who is 7 and she was like “Oh my, sissy! what happened to your leg… that’s a big owy how did that happen?” How do you explain that to your 7 year old little sister who thinks you hung the moon… You don’t. After that there was no turning back… Never again could I cut or would I cut it’s a battle but we can win it we just need to find the innoccent person in our lives that you would do anything to protect.

Carve “Stupid loser,worthless bitch.” I admire the scars that I get. Blood drips from gashes on my arm. I love my life of self-harm.

I would just like to tell you that your website helped me greatly. I have been diagnosed with major depression, and I have been cutting myself for almost four years. A couple of weeks ago I attempted suicide again. And I’m finding myself in a rut once again. I am on anti-depressants but they seem to be failing. For seven months I had not harmed myself, but now I have started again. I have hundreds of scars on my arms, and they are an every day reminder. I hope things do get better. It’s just hard to believe at the time.


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