Stories of Hope
When I was in high school, year eight, I scratched my self
with sticks every chance I got - at lunch, recess, after school etc. Then I
started carrying blades around in my pocket and holding them in my hands and
playing with them, then one day I cut.
after that, I cut every night. only lightly and not enough to scar permanently, but enough for me to need to cover them up. I even did it at school, and when one of my friends saw the blade, I said it was for my dad who is a builder and she just looked at me funny. nobody knows about me, except a few close people. My best friend is also a cutter and she has helped me greatly, as I hope I have helped her. It's how we met. These are only some thoughts and stuff, not my total story. Some people say self harm comes from abuse, but for me it is a coping mechanism. I was abused by my father, but that is not my reason. I was abused and used by men I was with when I was too innocent and young to know they were hurting me. To see what I do makes me feel good, which sounds perverse, but it's like seeing blood makes me visualize what I am feeling, and thus help me to not feel so crazy. Is that crazy. If anyone wants my total story or wants to hear more about me, email@example.com.
Don't think anything bad about me if I don't contact you for a few days, I only have access to the internet every three to four days, sometimes more often, it depends where I am.
On a slightly brighter note, I have not seriously cut for ten months, which may not sound like a long time to some, but for me it is an age. I started when I was 13 and have not stopped totally. The deep cuts are over for the time being while I am in a slightly higher mood, but at some stage I know the need for them will return, it's whether or not I will be able to cope with the need is the question. But for the moment, I am a bit better than I have been for five years, so have a smile for me, and have a wish for me. The more people I know that are like me the better, it tells me I'm not crazy...