I cut myself eight times, four on each arm, last night. I took the blades out of a plastic razor.
I wore a hoodie to school, which isn't dress code, so I had to put it in my locker. Nobody really noticed until math- my last class. I was doing my work when the girl sitting behind me asked what was on my arm. When I said it was nothing she pinched my arm until I turned around.
When she saw my cuts she asked why I did it, I replied "things pile up". Everyone left me alone for the rest of the day.
Once math was over I really wanted to talk to Jorge(the guy from "Dreams More Like Nightmares"). One I found him in the hallway I told him that people had started asking about my cuts. He replied sarcastically, "it's nice isn't it". He cuts. I went to ask someone a question, then went back to Jorge. I told him about how I cried at school for the first time since I was seven and what I had written in my letter to our teacher. Lastly, I asked him why people freak out over eight cuts. He shrugs his shoulders and we say our goodbyes for the day.
