A Cutter's Story

** TRIGGERING. **

this may be triggering. please DON'T read if you think you could cut. I don't want to cause anyone to cut. seriously.

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Cutting, it's not just using a blade and cutting your own skin. Seriously, its so much more. It is a great way to get rid of stress. Actually, its terrible. People start asking what happened. You forget to keep your sleeves pulled down or have to change for gym and someone sees the cuts. They wonder what happened and sometimes someone will see through your lies and you will have to tell them. The scars raise questions to, the perfect white lines. They're so perfect and every time you see them they remind you you're a screw up. Only a screw up will cut themselves and that makes you cut even more. Its an endless cycle and you can't win. No matter what you do that thought will always be in your head. Just one more cut will make you happy. Just one. But one is one to many, one more is never enough. (Yes I stole that line from a song. So what. Suck it up if you don't like it.)

The moment when you're broken and crying and your fingers are sticky with your own blood you know you're shit. You're nothing. Why would someone love you? How could someone love someone as ugly and fat and stupid and worthless as you? No one will. That's what I've been told my whole life. I'm going to die alone. If I win, I'll die soon and it won't matter. I'll be a sad and tragic headline on page A2 in the newspaper, then I will be forgotten. That's not so bad.

I don't know why I started cutting. I just did. I had wanted to since I was in 4th or 5th grade. I finally did in 6th and it felt great. Adrenaline rushed through my veins and I felt like I could breath again. After when I looked down and saw the bloody gash on my leg I realized it was definitely not worth it. Yet, when I was in a time of stress I reached directly for my razor blade and cut, cut, cut. Every thing said over the course of the day flooded back and I cut some more. My legs were ragged bloody mass but I started to like it. If my leg looked to white, I'd cut to bring back color. I liked my scars, I grew to love them actually.

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I'll wrote a longer chapter soon I promise. (maybe) I promise I'll spend more time on the next chapter. It may take longer, like Sunday or Monday. thanks and kisses. -K