A Cutter's Story

The Ending

"There are things that attach to you that you can never wash off." -Reid quoting Gideon, Criminal Minds

Cutting seems to be the only escape some days. Some days I think if I don't I will explode. Other days I can be so logical and I know its stupid and ridiculous but then I look at my scars and I'm reminded that if I didn't do that I would have done something much worse. I never know what I will go through in one day. Someday I think everything is great and then something happens and all of a sudden its so wrong and I just need a razor and I shake until I can get on and its so scary and crazy and nerve wrecking. Some days I just want to pull my hair out and sit down and cry. I can't stand it.

How? How do you sit in front of a screen, click "anonymous" and tell someone to kill themselves? How do you keep that on your conscious? Are you just that low? What if they did actually kill them self? Do you want to walk around being the one that pushed then over the edge? Maybe you were the last one. Maybe the last thing they read that pushed them over the breaking point came from YOU. What if instead of downing someone or pointing out their flaws you decided to uplift them instead. What if you complimented their hair or their eyes. Maybe if you asked them how they did their makeup instead of calling them fat, they'll decide not to kill them self. Maybe you can say a life just by being nice for once. How about you give it a try because I am sick of people dying because they feel like trash. 'People' doesn't just mean teens. Children as young as 9 are killing themselves, teens of all ages, adults and even elderly. Rudeness and complaints hurt any age. Think about it, just for one second.

Mamaw,

Has it really been a year? 365 days have gone without you here. You are in peace now,  but I still find myself crying for you and wishing you were here. I know you're no longer in pain from that stupid C word. I remember the last time I saw you alive and you didn't seem that sick. I noticed the little things, the random grimace from certain movements and the way you moved slower. I noticed the way your hair wasn't like it used to be. Your house was slightly less tidy than normal. You knew you were going to be going soon, and you gave me the only thing I wanted from you: the Father of the Bride movies. I have them, even though I haven't touched them since then. I remember watching them every time I went over there. I knew everything that was going to happen, but I watched them over and over. I remember sitting on your exercise bike and going as fast as I could, even though it was broken. I remember you always baked chicken dressing for us when we came over. The last time I went to your house, you had KFC and you let us eat it even though my mom said we couldn't have it. I remember going through your things after you died, and the way it broke my heart to remember all these great memories with you and knowing I would never make more. Maybe the hardest thing is the fact I never got to say that one word, goodbye. Maybe the worst thing is knowing I will never get to. I believe in my heart that you knew I love you. I don't believe I told you enough or spent enough time with you, but I do believe you know I would have done anything for you. I still have some letters from you. I reread them and some days I don't cry, I can only smile and remember. Other days my heart breaks and I sit in the darkness for hours and cry all by myself. Some days I wish you were here, but I know in your last days you were I'm pain, and I'm glad you're away from that now. I know you knew you were going to go, and I wonder if you left because we didn't need to see you like that. I only touched you once, I kissed my hand and put it to your forehead. That's the only time I touched you after you took your last breath. I don't know what is harder, accepting that someone you love will die, or accepting that they are dead. I can't decide because they both tear you apart inside. They both make you feel like someone ripped your heart out of your chest, like you lost a piece of you and nothing makes sense. I know this feeling well now.

My grandmother died on September 20, 2012. We had just left my house to go see her and say goodbye. Never getting to say goodbye, that's the hardest part of remembering. I love you Mamaw. RIP.