Story of my life

Secret identity

The first thing you should probably know about me, is that my name isn't Michael or its not even Xavier. Truth is, I'm not even a guy. I mean i'd like to be genderfluid and if I could have a guy's name then it would be Xavier or Michael.

Yeah I know it's weird having an account under a fake name or whatever but I swear I have a reason. You can judge yourself if it's a good reason or not but ya know, it's good enough for me.

Believe it or not, I've been a self Harmer for a few months now. I never thought I'd actually say that, but I'm saying it so I might as well accept it right?

I always call the people I saw with scars or knew had attempted suicide, the survivors. I thought it would be better for them to be looked up to for fighting what they went through, rather than being looked down on for making a or a few mistakes. I never really thought I'd fit into that category myself.

It was just nighttime, and someone said the right thing to just make me feel like everything was my fault. I don't remember what we were fighting about exactly, but the person I was talking to made me feel like I fucked up everything. Like everything was my fault and that I was responsible for what happened.

That night, I found a pin which I used against myself. But somehow, it was almost like I was in a trance or something. I didn't feel the pain. I just watched it glide across my skin, leaving jagged lines as it went by.

I completely freaked out after. I told one of my friends in another school. He said "if you ever do anything like that again I swear I will destroy myself". I never told him anything else after that.

I went to my internet friend. She's about 2 years older than me. I told her that I tried self harming, but she got the text during school and said that she had to leave class to go to the bathroom to could cry. I never brought that subject up with her again.

I told my other internet friend who was actually my own age. Practically my best friend even though she's 9 hours ahead in Dubai, and still is like my best friend. She was upset. She didn't seem as upset as the first, but I didn't realise how much that did something until she texted me a couple nights later saying "I cut myself". Those three words hurt like daggers, but when you know you were the one who influenced it, you might as well pour salt on the wound.

Us two helped each other out from there. We always knew that we could talk to each other about anything. So we always did. I think we told each other about more things than we told our friends at school.

I refused to let anyone at school know. Even if the marks on my arm never stayed, I covered my arm with bracelets afraid that someone would know anyway.

That happened for a month or two.

Then it got worse all in one day..

My parents told me they were going to be gone for a few hours. They always knew they could trust my brother and I to stay at home alone 'cause we liked it there and we never did anything bad.

But my brother stayed in his room and played video games on his laptop.

I went down to the basement knowing what I was going to do.

My dad did packaging along with his job so there were blades all around down there.

I grabbed the first blade I saw, sitting in his spinning desk chair. I wiped off the dust on it and placed the blade in the center of my arm, recalling everything I've ever heard anyone say about people being gay, along with everything racing through my head

Stupid, pathetic, useless, against all religion.

I wanted to slide the blade but I couldn't.

I ran back up the stairs, quickly pacing back and forth in my room thinking about how I almost used a real blade. A real fucking blade to slice my skin.

I told my Dubai friend (we can call her Nia). She told me not to ever do it and that I ever was thinking about it, then to tell her.

I probably told some other internet friends like the ones in the group chat I was in, they said the same kinda thing, but not with as much concern as Nia did.

But the thoughts from a few minutes were still going through my head.

I ran down the stairs a second time, down to the basement, to try again. But this time I had more determination.

This time I wanted it. 

I grabbed the same blade, placing it over my skin. The metal felt cold against it. My heart pounded in my head, in my ears, sending adrenaline throughout my whole body. But this time, I ran the tip of the blade over my skin. It didn't bleed. I went over again and again until it did before moving to the next one.

I did this about 4 times.

I didnt know what I just got myself into. I didn't tell anyone that I actually used the blade. I just left it at everyone thinking I ALMOST did.

But now, here I am practically hugging my arm to my chest which is still in pain from 6hrs ago, because I finally cut deeper. And more. 12 cuts instead of 5. 12 deeper cuts instead of 5 smaller ones. And now, I'm cutting every single day instead of just once or twice a week like I used to when I first started with that pin.

My parents don't know about any of this. And they can't know. They would kill me if they ever found out.

Only one person at school knows about every time I cut, but only because she does the same. But she's considering taking me to the guidance counsellor since it's gotten worse, so she can't know about tonight.

If the guidance counsellor knew, they would tell my parents, and well, everything would pretty much go to hell from there.

No one else at the school can know. Because I don't know who can keep a secret and who would report it.

So now you can make your judgement on me having a "secret identity" if that's what you want to call it.

I think only one person would know who I am only because I told them most or all of this and they were mentioned in here. But that's only if they read it.

But for now, and possibly forever, id like to keep who I really am to just that one person.