Scars

My Story

So many have asked why do people cut. I remember the first time. I had a knife. I had put it over the stove fire for sanitation. I rinsed it off with cool water. In my underwear I slit my upper thigh. I had thought out where I wanted to cut, I chose my thigh because it was easy to conceal. The first cut wasn’t deep at all. It was almost like a paper cut. I cut it again. This time it was like a scratch. I put pressure down on the knife with my other hand. I forced the blade across my skin. The cut was deep. My “first” cut. It took the other cuts that weren’t as deep about a week to scab over and heal to a scar. The “first” cut took about three weeks. I could hardly move without feeling the pain of the cut. It wouldn't stop bleeding. I put some disinfectant and a bandage on it. I looked myself in the mirror while putting a bandaid on. I broke down and cried. This was my life.

I had cut and cut for almost six months. Nothing had been able to stop the pain I felt inside. Throughout those six months I had been in a relationship for four. When it ended I had wanted to kill myself. I had cut, deep for the next month. Soon that wasn’t enough. I had decided I wanted to end my life. The note written explaining the pain I had felt inside. I had the knife against my wrist. I cut horizontally. I knew the on vertical cut was what would end it all. I had made one cut on my wrist that still remains a scar, faded, but there today. The knife was placed on the end of my wrist ready to make the vertical cut. My laptop rang. I don’t know what possessed me to check it. Maybe the fact if I did die I wanted to know what that notification was. It was a boy, who had messaged me. I sent him a request so I could message back. Why I didn’t ignore it is still a mystery today to me.

I stayed up all night talking to him on the phone. He had saved my life. He wont know until he reads this, but I stopped cutting for him. He saved me that night. He doesn't know it, but he did.

So the question rises again. Why do people cut? Personally I think people cut because they are hurt. They want to feel something again. Even if its pain. Why can’t they just take on a feeling of happiness and pleasure? To that I say, “If it’s okay for others to hurt someone, then why can’t you hurt yourself?”