My Poetry

The First Cut

My whole life changed with just one cut on the wrist; the first cut. I was 13 years old, an 8th grader. And here is why.

My parents had me at a really young age, and it's a pretty touchy subject when people say that I'll end up just like my mom. My 8th grade best friend knew that, but she still said that I'd get pregnant with my boyfriends baby, before the start of my freshman year. I'm someone that takes every little thing to heart, and because of that I broke, and I made the first cut. I didn't cut my wrists because that's the first place people always look, so I cut on my ankles, so that way I could keep it hidden from my friends and my family members. That first cut; That's when it all changed, and it made me feel better, all my stress and worry just flew out the window. At the time the only thing that was going through my head were the same two word, "Why me?", I couldn't believe that my best friend would say that. It must have just been one of her many lies.

After everything that my, 8th grade, best friend said about me, I decided I didn't want to be with someone who was going to just tear me down. From then on we were no longer friends. We were still friendly to each other, or at least I was, until one day I rolled my eyes at her and she threatened to slit my throat. That night when I got home, I took another blade to my ankles and cried myself to sleep. I was no longer happy nor did I feel safe at school, because of her, and I loved school. I did still keep cutting, mostly my ankles, sometimes my thighs, but still never my wrists. It started to become less when I started reading and writing more, but I was still cutting. Most of my writing was about my pain, how I was feeling, or what I was thinking.

Not enough.

That's what you alway think about yourself.

You're not pretty enough or skinny enough.

You're not smart enough or talented enough.

One day, towards the end of the year, my, 8th-grade ex-best friend moved and I instantly became happier. I started feeling safe at school again, I started smiling and laugh more, and you could see the light in my eyes again. And I did stop cutting, but I also stopped writing. That light lasted the rest of my 8th-grade year, and all through the summer. I had a fantastic summer, I may have broken up with my boyfriend of three months, but I also got to go to Washington D.C. I loved it, and I spent every second of it with my friends. But, in my freshman year, that light went away again.

My freshman year started on August 23, 2016. I was a good day, I had a volleyball game, I was with my friends and I was happy. I became friends easily with some of the sophomores, who are still my friends to this day. The light in my eyes started to fade in December of 2016, when the boy that I thought loved me, broke my heart. I knew it would eventually happen because he had a girlfriend, but I thought that we could still be friends. But, makes me choose between him and someone who made me happy. I, of course, choose this someone who made me happy. We eventually started dating, the light in my eyes started coming back and my heart started mending. But, because I lost one of my best friends, I brought back my long lost friend, my blade, I started cutting again, and this time I didn't care if people saw, this time I cut my wrists.

No one cares,if you jump off a bridge.

No one cares, if you stab yourself.

No one cares, if you overdose.

On January 7th, 2017, the light started to fade again. I lost my boyfriend and yet another best friend. This time though it wasn't that she was saying stuff that was sensitive to me, this time she was calling me names and talking about me behind my back, but it still hurt. The only way for me to deal with my pain is by cutting. So, I again cut.

I tried to confront her about it, but she just kept ignoring me and walking away. I finally gave up, we were no longer friends. That's when cutting because a ritual for me almost every night, it helped me with my pain and helped me sleep, too. "Why me" Why does this always happen to me?" I always thought.

No one cares, if you hang yourself.

No one cares, if you die.

No one cares, and

No one ever will.

My sleeves got longer, I got quieter and I soon stopped eating as much. My friends started getting worried about me, they were always asking if I was okay: I always gave them the same answer, ¨I'm fine." But, my friends knew that I wasn't, so they kept pushing and pushing, and like every human, you have a breaking point. I reached mine and told them everything, everything that they need to know. I never told them that I was crying myself to sleep almost every night or that I was cutting almost every night.

My parents eventually found out, and it took me some time to open up to them. And when I eventually did, I never told them everything. I still haven't. And I don't know if I ever will. I slowly stopped cutting every night and started putting my pain into words again. I would only cut when something bad happened at school or at home. I still do.

My ex-best friend and I slowly started talking to each other around the time my cousin started to call me names. We eventually became friends again. We became friends again because I believe in second chances, and I always have. That friend still hasn't given me an apology for the things she said, and I don't know if I'll ever get it. But things still didn't get better because of my cousin. Things started to get back to normal, after a while. At the end of the year, I got to go to state for track, but I also lost my friend again, and this time it was for good; And I started cutting again.

LIfe is hard, and I happened to learn that the hard way, but I made it through. I made it through, even will all the cuts, scrapes, scars, and broken hearts, I survived. I at least made it this far. If you would have asked me at the beginning of my freshman year if I would someday tell my story, I would have laughed and said, "no." But here I am today, telling you my story.

I'm slowly getting better. It still hurts to think about my past, but it's getting better. Someday it will stop hurting. Maybe not someday soon, but someday. But, my story doesn't end there.

I never stopped cutting, but it has become less. Everybody does ultimately figure out that life is hard, and most of the time it's in the most cruelest way ever, and I have scars to prove it. I'm not afraid to show them, because in a way it shows what I've been through.

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I hope you really like this because this is what I have gone through. I know some of you may have gone through more than what I have, I just wanted to tell you my story. I'm still going to update this more, so it's not finished, yet.

Please vote, comment and share.

~Alexia

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