I carved the word 'fat' into my scar covered arm. Blood ran down my wrist and smacked the bottom of my tub. I leaned my head back against the cold, tiled wall and closed my eyes, enjoying the sting of my fresh cut. I concentrated on the pain of my bleeding wound instead of the pain I always felt in my head. Reaching foward I turned the glass knob infront of me and warm water began to shoot out of the faucet and onto my body. When the water hit my newly cut wrist, I drew a sharp breath in through my teeth and a hissing sound was released. The water raining down on my open cut caused a ton of stinging that I just couldn't get enough of. The stinging was so strangely addicting, so comforting actually. The pain in my wrist distracted me from the pain in my head, the pain in my heart, the pain in my body. Setting the razor to the side I stood up and removed the rest of my clothing, continuing on with my shower.
Its sad to say that this is a daily routine for me, but I cant help it. Cutting is a strange thing that a lot of people don't understand so let me try to explain. Cutting is addictive, like nicotine. After someone has a cigarette, then they have another and before you know it they are addicted. Every morning when they wake up they grab a cigarette, it becomes imbedded in their life. Its a comfort for people, when they are stressed or upset they pull out a cigarette and smoke. Its normal to them, they think nothing of it, and thats what cutting is like. Cutting is comforting as weird as it may sound, and it is just as hard to stop as a person were to stop smoking. If not, quitting cutting is harder, you don't have anything to help you quit like smokers have nicotine gum or a nicotine patch.
I washed my hair and scrubbed my body going gentle around the sensitve areas where there were cuts and scars. After stepping out of the shower and drying off I noticed that I could no longer find the word that I previously cut into my skin. My arms were cluttered with so many scars it was hard to tell that my intention was to spell the word 'fat'. I wrapped the towel around me and left the bathroom and walked down the hall to my bedroom.
I absolutley loved my bedroom, it brought a smile to my face everytime I walked in. Two of my walls in my bedroom were covered top to bottom in One Direction posters. I'm well aware how pathetic it is for a 18 year old's room to look like this and that's exactly why no one is allowed in my room. I didn't really have much of a problem with people in my room though because I'm an only child and my mom and dad respect my privacy. I only really have one friend that comes over but I trust her to go in my room because I know she won't say anything about it.
Walking over to my dresser I pulled out underwear, a bra, a pair of sweatpants and a old t-shirt. I dropped my towel to my feet and put on my clothes, then wrapping the towel around my head to dry my hair. I grabbed my phone and plopped onto my bed. I had a text message from Erin,
'you up for a sleepover tonight?'
'yeah totally. my house or yours?'
'yourss :D'
'haha ok, lemme go ask my mom.'
I got up from my bed and jogged out of my room into the kitchen where I guessed my mom would be, and I was right. She was washing dishes from dinner and she must have heard me come in because she turned around and asked, "What's up?"
"Can Erin stay over tonight?" I asked, hoping for a yes. My mom gave me a blunt,
"I dont care." and turned back around to finish the dishes. I quickly texted Erin that she could stay over and within 10 minutes she was at my door.
At this point I forgot about the towel around my head so I tossed it into my hamper and brushed my hair out. Erin and I just layed on my bed on our phones all night talking about basically everything. A lot of the talking was focused on Erin's boyfriend Matt. She talks about him a lot but I don't really blame her, if I had a boyfriend or even just a boy that's a friend, I would do the same.
