Don Quixote

20

To put it simply, when I was younger I used to cut myself.

I think I started when I was 11 or 12?

I can't remember exactly when.

I remember the start of it though. My friend had a face razor and brought it over to my house. We tried to shave the peach fuzz off our backs and she accidentally cut me so we decided it would be fun to also cut her so we could have "bestie scars".

Thinking back on it, it sounded kinda silly but I led to something a lot bigger. I remember cutting myself at my friends birthday party in her kitchen just because I was bored. No one really cared and honestly thought it was funny.

As time passed it continued.

I would cut my thighs (it was easier to hide it there) with those little blackhead extracting tools, the ones with the pointy ends. I don't know what compelled me to do it. I just did.

My friends did it too. I remember my friend Seoham and I would cut ourselves together with razor blades he found in his dads tool box. He asked if he could cut me and I said yes. It's the deepest scar I have, a constant reminder of our friendship. It sucks though now that we arnt friends.

When I was in 6th grade I cut my hand with a pair of scissors in class. No one saw.

Another time (the same year) i went to the bathroom during social studies and scratched legs until I broke skin.

I had told my mother about it one night after I had went to her in the middle of the night crying. I had done that pretty often back then. I'd go into her room crying and kneel next to her bed and she'd pay my back and comfort me. She started making me see a therapist.

It continued until 7th grade when I suddenly stopped. I don't remember when or why I stopped I just didn't do it anymore and haven't since.

As time passed the scars have faded, but are still there and some are still more visible. I remember my ex boyfriend had seen the one seoham did and asked about it and I just didn't answer and started talking about something else.

Another one of my friends, named Choonhee, pointed out the fact that there is a heart on my leg.

One of my scars I had made it the shape of a heart.

I just pretended she was crazy and there was in fact not a heart there and she was seeing things and began talking about something else.

It's embarrassing.

My mother brought it up because we were talking about diabetics and how they have to prick their finger and I said I would not like to do that and she said "you used to cut yourself and your worried about a finger prick?".

When I got mad at her and was confused and told me she hadn't realized it was a sensitive subject and she shouldn't talk about it.

It's. Very. Embarrassing.