Copyright, Taylor

My name is Taylor. I started cutting at the age of thirteen. It all started after my grandmother pasted away. When my mom left for the two week long trip, I gained so much freedom. I started sneaking out at night, doing things I shouldn’t, and I lost my virginity. I was liking it at first. But then I met two guys who decided to start crap with each other. I hate people being upset so they took advantage of it and made me feel like shit. All they wanted was my sympathy. They got it. Too bad for me, I decided to cut myself to give them some of what they were giving me.

This went on for some while until my mom found out. I never sought counselling. When word got out I was embarrassed. I was so scared about it I didn’t even tell my best friend. I only told people I thought were my best friends. I had cut words on the top of my arms and on my thighs.

Later I moved, just so I oculd start over. I wanted to end it all. Well, I started high school and everything went horribly for me. New school and new grades and new everything. I began cutting again. My mom found out and wasn’t upset this time, but angry with me. She wanted to help but didn’t know what to do.

We both agreed to put me into therapy, which I am still doing, and see how it goes. I still cut.

What makes it worse is I now have a serious boyfriend who does everything in his power to help, but in the end, I always disappoint him. I have no reason to cut other than the thrill again.

Most people are confused by it. It makes me feel… strong… and in control, when really, I am not.

My last cutting session was yesterday. I want to stop, but I am told to have ‘obbsessional thinking’ and a ‘relationship’ with cutting. I could understand it. I spend two thirds of my day daydreaming about how, when and where I would cut myself. I am not sure.

I hate this.


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