My name is unimportant. Everything about me is unmemorable and completely unoriginal. I feel no need to introduce myself. One word could really sum it up; okay. I am an okay student. I am okay child. I am as my teacher would say "Too quiet and too boring to stick out." I have no problem with this fact. I've gotten used to it. I used to be different though. In elementary school, I was popular. I could stand up for myself if anyone were to do anything. I had friends. I had awards. I had everything that a little kid could want. I was a soccer player, winning games. I was the perfect weight, the perfect amount of talkative, the perfect amount of pretty.I was extremely unmoved. That's the worse part of it all really, I had everything I want now and still couldn't be satisfied. How could I be so stupid? All I can seem to do is wish for more. More love,more attention, more friends. No matter how many goals I achieve, how much love I receive, I will still be utterly displeased. My 5th grade year I was sent to the school guidance counselor. Funny, not once did I feel guided in that office. It always seemed to be closing in, the walls getting closer together with every move I made. I tried my best to never move. If I did who knows what might happen? That particular day, it was so unbearable I couldn't breathe. She pulled me from math class before I could finish my fraction equation and sat me down in her bright neon green chair. She talked slow like if she spoke any faster my tiny brain wouldn't quite understand. She said a lot of words that I knew, alot of familiar sentences that I couldn't focus on. I nodded and said yes every few seconds then she finally said what she waiting to say. "I'm going to need you to show me your arms,okay?" She wanted to see my arms? What if I don't show her? She can't see my arms. My mom will kill me. My mom will kill me. My arms are mine, why does it matter what I do with them? I gave her my wrist. She rolled up my sleeve. She went silent. She didn't say anything else really. But she did say something that I hated. "I'm going to have to call your mom. You're not in trouble I just have to her that we talked."
My mother wouldn't have noticed. Nobody would have. If I wasn't so dumb. I ended up in that office because a classmate of mine decided they were going to be like me. They saw my arms, saw me hurting myself and followed the nearest example. It became a trend. Whoever could do it the longest, the deepest, the bloodiest was better then everyone else. It became an everyday thing. It actually took quite awhile for anyone to notice. I mean who payed attention to the arms of typically happy kids. I started something new. I leavened from a book explaining how bad it was. They learned from me showing how cool it was. I think about that a lot. Me...I started something that I was never supposed too. I hurt others by hurting myself. I made them, I caused they're pain. I am the reason that they bled.
