Just Another Ghost Story.Not sure if I should actually share my story. Guess trying never hurts, right?
Here's my story, this is what brought me to find salvation in the blade.
As long as I can remember, I've been stressed. Even as a little punk who couldn't sit still in kindergarten. I was always alone, always having to deal with hardships on my own. From that little punk I used to be, till now. There hasn't ever been a single person to stand besides me and tell me that things will be OK. Not a single soul. That feeling of being alone, feeling worthless, bottling everything up deep inside for many years... it just gets to you at a certain point.
Ever since I was 8 I developed the "nailbiting" habbit and when I didn't have nails left to bite I'd bite the skin off of my fingertips to the point where it bleeds. I did it then, and I still do it. When I was 14 I started playing with sharp ob
I don't have any friends, I never had. I've always been alone so I can't turn to someone else for comfort. I am in a long-distance relationship, but that's falling apart rapidly. I still live with my parents, because I got screwed over by some coorperation so I have to stand in the back of the line with getting my own home again. And parents, great. Mom is nice and all, but she's extremely manipulative. And dad? He wouldn't care if I stopped at all. All he does is boss me around, telling me how useless I am, telling me he can't wait till I'm gone..so yeah, fun. I don't go to school or collage, I work. But that ain't better either. Same crap I get everywhere. Bullied and called useless. I get blamed for everything, even when it's obvious it wasn't me or even couldn't have been me.
Because of it all, I spend most of my time in my room. My only "safe" haven. I sit behind my computer and either listen to music, browse the web or play games. This routine has been going on for so long that it feels like I'm a ghost or something. I'm there, but no one sees me. If dissapeared, no one would miss me. Or care.
When I put that blade on my skin and watched the blood flow, I felt happy. The physical pain was nothing compared to what I felt deep down inside. It makes me feel good, it makes me feel alive. I don't like the idea, but it's the best I've got now. That blade is my only friend.
I've been able to restrict the cutting to just my lower right arm. I can't count the cuts because it's just too messy. I don't hide it either. When the weather is hot, I'd wear a T-shirt. No bracelets or wristbands, nothing. And still, no one has bothered asking me what the hell I'm doing.
That's a quick summary I guess. If you want to know more, just ask. I'm not hiding anything.