Copyright, T-Bone

I’m fed up with the world. I have no privacy and I hate it. I have friends who stab me in the back and I hate it. I live in an abusive home and I hate it. I just got back from being runaway for a week. The guidance counsellor at my school gave me heck for it and it just really pissed me off. I’m a cutter. I have been since October 7th 2001. I’ve had breaks where I’ve stopped, but it just all creeps back, and the pain never seems to go away.

I asked for help, I wanted help, nobody would listen. Now my friends are slipping me notes and telling me to shut the fuck up and that it doesn’t matter if I kill myself. It’s supposed to be anonymous, but I know who it is, and I know why. My friend’s dating this guy that I used to like a lot. He’s a cutter too, but I think he’s a little fucked up if you ask me. I liked him because I thought I had a strange connection and friendship with him. I felt like he understood why I cut the way I do because he does it just as bad (most of the time worse although now mine are getting bad). But I mean, he does it too!

Or did, I haven’t talked to him in a little while because I’m afraid that he’s just going to say some bullshit to me. Him or his girlfriend, or my other friend who follows people even though I don’t think she does it on purpose. The whole point is, I’m fed up with this. I have nobody to turn to. I hate my dad, I have absolutely no privacy. While I was gone, my dad got my eldest sister’s boyfriend to go through all the computer files and read a lot of stuff that I wrote. I’m so fucking fed up. My room has things everywhere, my poetry… What the fuck? My boyfriend wants me to runaway with him, and what the hell should I do? I just want to commit suicide. I never used to be like this. I used to be a good kid, I used to laugh, smile, play, do all the normal things, but now look, I feel like a monster, and nobody can hear me, nobody’s listening. I’m trapped.

Going Crazy

Copyright, T-Bone

Time in and time out, my dad hurts me. It’s getting to be ridiculous and I can’t handle it anymore. I wish that it would all stop. I have been through so much already, I don’t want to keep going through it all. My nightmares are endless, about being raped and chased, and I just can’t take it anymore! I don’t know what happened to me in the past, I know stuff happened, I just put the pieces together to figure that much out but I don’t know what or by whom. My boyfriend, I thought it was my first time, well to me it was, the first time I’d remember anyways, and he didn’t have a cherry to pop. I already knew something had happened before but this confirmed it and it’s not fair! I feel so used and dirty.

I haven’t cut in a long while, but now it’s almost 1am here on the 28th and I’m ready to cut myself. My boyfriend doesn’t want me to. He can’t handle it because it’ll hurt him, but I can’t handle myself anymore! I just want to cut my entire body up and lay in the bath bleeding, crying, dying. My friends think they know what’s best for me, they tell me how much they care, but I dont feel it, and I’m sorry but I don’t! I wish that it would all go away. I wish all the thoughts, memories and pain would stop. I wish my father would be nice to me, maybe just once. Maybe Mather could stop calling me, after all he did. Nevermind. I just want it all to stop. Maybe someday, before I kill myself.

What Would I Need?

Copyright, T-Bone

Today is August 10th. I dread about when school will start again, and I will be in my stupid little uniform, wearing my long sleeves under a short sleeve shirt to hide my cuts, just like I am now. Last night, as usual, my dad got into a fight with me. Of course my stupid brother had to come into the fight too and call me names, but my dad punched me a couple of times and stuff. I ended up screaming, and crying, but hey I didn’t cut myself! But I did not too long ago, so that’s not good. My dad says cutting is unacceptable. He thinks (or did think) I wear long sleeves because I had (yes had) poison ivy. He doesn’t know it’s gone. But my brother was on my computer while I was throwing a fit in my room because I was so angry with them. He opened my picture folder and when I came downstairs I caught him looking at the picture of my cuts…

It’s pretty gory and all, and my brother freaks out about all these things. Whenever I’m locked up in my room he runs by and screams “stop cutting yourself”. I swear, I hate him so much.

Yeah, well, last night was horrible. Everything was so messed up. My boyfriend even threatened to kill himself! I was like, what the hell am I supposed to do? What can I do, when I feel like that too? It just left me feeling so hopeless and dead. Now I’m scared of my dad. I’ve seen him glance down at my long sleeves and everything, but he hasn’t said anything yet. I know the next time he gets real mad he’s gonna say “show me your arms.” I hate when he does that; what’s the point? He never takes me to get help. He just slaps me in the face or something, tells me I cant live under his roof with this behaviour. Blah, blah, blah. I really wish that I had the guts to just get this all over with. I’m tired of hearing from friends “oh it’ll be ok,” because it doesn’t feel that way. I’m going insane. I really feel like cutting myself. I usually go all the way up my arm. I dont put holes in my skin, but I sure do cut. *sigh* I wish all this would go away. Now I’m left here. Alone again. Lost. Wishing it’d all go away. Pretending I’m fine. And underneath I’m screaming. Yet nobody can see how much this hurts. I want to be locked away or something. I just can’t stand the way I feel anymore.

I Felt the Hate Rise up in Me…

Copyright, T-Bone

Today’s August 24th 2003. Everything is grey today. Grey or black, as it has been a lot lately, with red everywhere. Red for my blood of course. Grey is just how dull the world has been, and black, of course for this darkness I’m living in. It’s been at least a week or so in a row, where I’ve cut every night. I’m going over older cuts, reopening ones from the days before, all the bad stuff that I’m not supposed to do.

School is going to start in eight days. Well a little more then 8 but not quite 9. I’m going into grade 10. Wow. Don’t I feel special? No, not really. Today I considered calling the kids’ help phone when my father and brother came home. That’s when I decided it didn’t matter too much. It seems nothing matters. I just feel like killing myself. Everybody’s saying “no, hang on”, I mean my friends, to my “online journal” but it’s useless. I can’t see a good enough reason to hold on. I love my boyfriend, but everything is so messed up that it feels like maybe the whole world would be better if I were gone. I’m scared to go back to school, I am really afraid. My long sleeves to cover the cuts. I already cut today, a lot, and I feel like doing it again.

I hate myself. I really want everything to just stop. I want to live inside myself so that nobody could hurt me. Wouldn’t that just be dandy? I’ve taken a bunch of Advils before, and lots of my dad’s pills, I just remember how tired I was, yet nobody even noticed there was anything wrong. Oh well. I’ll just cut until they say “sorry we’re going to have to amputate your arm”. How does that happen anyways? Do your cuts have to be really deep? Or just too many? Man, the questions. I remember an old friend Grey said I should stop or that’ll happen, but what if it was just to scare me? He hates me now anyways, I don’t want to talk about him.

The summer went by too fast. Maybe I’ll end up in the hospital soon. At the rate I’m going I’d like to think that somebody will stop me. Marinie says nobody can stop me but myself. Alright. So how do I do it? And what if I don’t want to stop. I mean I get hurt enough at this level. I don’t want to work hard to happiness and then have it shattered. I wanted to be able to stop cutting at least until the night before school starts because I know my anxiety will be high, but, it just seems not to be working. I guess it doesn’t matter. My dad doesn’t notice. Nobody cares. Take me to the fucking emergency already, before I kill myself. Oh well. Doesn’t matter. I say I should go and listen to more angry music and make myself bleed some more. I just keep going deeper. Oh well, shit happens and then you die.

Maybe this is it…

Copyright, T-Bone

Lately, I’ve still been depressed, my dad still drives me crazy, but there’s this new guy — Mike — in my life. He’s really really nice. He’s of course 7 years older then me, so it all seems so pathetic to try at. But meh. I still have my boyfriend but I feel us drifting apart, maybe we’ll fix things and tomorrow everything will be back to normal.

I haven’t cut myself in a couple of weeks but the thoughts still come, but I don’t want to disappoint anybody. I don’t want to make anybody sad anymore. I don’t even want to be sad anymore. I mean, I know I have depression but I wanna have something worthwhile, something to live for. Something I love…

Falling Down…

Copyright, T-Bone

Here I am… It’s November 23rd. Everything has changed, except for one thing, I still cut myself. I’m no longer dating Andrew, yet I still talk to him, and he calls me sweetie, and every little fucking thing he says to me, and all the stupid questions he asks me drive me nuts. He tells me he loves me and wants me back, I just can’t handle that. I can’t handle him, yet I can’t delete him from my life because he was so important for so long. I’m weak, dumb and useless.

I’m dating Mark, and we’re okay, he thinks my problems are his fault, like when I started throwing up my food ‘cause I wanted to be skinnier, and when I cut myself, so then yesterday he went and cut himself. He hadn’t since two years ago, so I was pretty upset… I didn’t cut last night, but then tonight… I just started cutting… and I let it all out… I let every fucking thing out… The punches from my dad. The arguments with my brother. Always taking care of my niece because my stupid sister walked out on me. And I’m not done, I didn’t release it all, I bleed a lot, I might cut again tonight. My entire left arm is covered in cuts. As deep as usual, but I’m thinking of doing one crazy one on my wrist that’ll kill me, or maybe slitting my throat… Just dreams… and hopes… not wanting to be alive anymore…

Tuesday I have a my 4th psychiatrist appointment, (or is it third?) Anyways, I have yet to tell her I ever cut myself, yet I’ve been doing it for over two years. I want to talk to her, I want help, I’m too scared, scared because my dad will have to know, scared because they’re just gonna throw me back into the real world, just labelled as “cutter”. Fucking labels. I want to be in the hospital, I’m not stable, I don’t want to even be here anymore. I can feel the demons in my head screaming, I just can’t handle it! They better put me in the hospital… Tomorrow is Monday. Maybe once I sleep it’ll all go away. Every day is a new day. That’s the way I have to live because of all the shit that’s going on. Excuse my language… I’m just going crazy… Let’s see if I can make it ‘til Tuesday, and if I can, let’s see if I have the guts to spit out what I really feel…


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