I Never Thought I Would...

Back in 7th grade health class my teacher would read us stories about teens. One I remember was about a girl who cut herself. I clearly recall being upset and promising to one of my friends I would never do that. I still know how stupid it is, it's just always been obvious to me. Then in November 2007, I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. Sucks ***, by the way. But after I was let out of the hospital, I became a self-proclaimed "emo" and wore nothing but black (I still am and still do by the way). My friends would make lots of cutting jokes since the stereotype is that emo=cutter, which at first wasn't true. But I started getting into fights with my father that would result in me being sent to my room, filled with uncontrollable rage. In my house, I'm not allowed to throw things, punch things or scream to release my anger (that includes punching and screaming into pillows). So to vent my anger, I started pulling the pointed ends of safety needles across the skin on my leg. I was too afraid to use a knife, and too smart to cut my arms. Even though they didn't ever bleed, I have scars. Since I knew it was stupid, I managed to stop when I made (temproary) peace with dad. Then in 8th grade my grades were slipping and I was feeling more and more depressed. If I said anything about being depressed to my mom, she brushed it off. I think she just doesn't want to pay the medical bills. My boyfriend was telling me about him being suicidal, so I got him help but the whole ordeal of everything caused me to start "cutting" again. This time it was straight pins, saftey scissors, tacks and at one point I gauaged four pieces of skin on my arm off with my nails. Those are my biggest scars. Oh amd there was the time I embedded a piece of plastic ruler into my wrist during math class because I got a 30. ******* sucked! I broke up with my boyfriend and got used by my crush, which was making me "cut" more frequently. Before I managed to quit again I would embed about 15 straight pins into my leg and walk around. It was sick, in a bad way. I managed to quit after severing the emotionally abusive friends-with-benefits relationship with my crush. I was almost clean for eight months, Ionly made one tiny mark with a tack that entire ime. Then came high school.
Oh, high school.
My ex-boyfriend, who I'm still friends with, tried to kill himself legitimately, and another of my friends was cuttinf and almost killed himself three times. Instead of this detering me, I started my masochistic behaviors again (I forgot to mention, I'm masochistic) by having one of my friends bite my arms. That was last week. Then, once last week and once yesterday, I cut myself. With a knife. Fan-*******-tastic. I have to wear long sleevs now because I cut my forearm. One of my friends knows everything but the knife cuts. She thinks I'm still cleam. No one else knows about any of it, and NO ONE knows about the knife cuts. I can@t get help, honestly, because if word gets back to my parents, they will *kill* me. They'll be condecending and limit hings I love, like time to draw on my computer or hanging out with my friends, and won't let me do anything ever again.
I have thought about suicide but I talk myself down eveytime. As a diabetic I have the easy way out. Just one huge insulin dose, and I'll die a quick, pain-free death. I always say oje thing to myself, and it works everytime even though it's complete and utter bull. "What happens if it gets better tomorrow? You wasted your whole ******* life because you're a *****. it'll all be okay tomorrow, don't you want to be around to see it?"
sweetblood123 sweetblood123
18-21, F
Feb 28, 2010