Get Up And Try Again...?

             There's no pretty way around saying this. I cut myself. I bare scars that I've kept hidden from the people around me. They've turned to match my skin color recently and have become easier to hide, although I rarely wear short sleeves anymore which doesn't seem to make hiding them an issue.. But, it's almost like a sport in its own right, keeping people from noticing that they're there, from giving me stares, from asking me what happened there. Oh, this? It's nothing, just a scratch. I've lost all but three times to concerned or curious looks in the last 6 months, but summer is coming along and long sleeves aren't exactly made for hot weather. I feel as though I'm getting better at this "sport", now having learned which ways i cant place my arm around my body and which ways I can turn my arm. But like all things, this also has to end some day.

             I was suicidal for the better part of last year, not being able receive or reach out for help from friends that I then denounced for no particular reason. Why would I hang out with them anymore? The phonies that they are, they deserve to be with eachother. I didn't know what was going on anymore. Happiness was never an issue for me. It just came to me without me ever having to search for it or ever having to realize that it was even there. I was that train moving along ever so peacefully, never confronting any problems until I got derailed. The funny thing about getting set off course is that it doesn't just stop there. A train doesn't magically re-rail itself after doing a couple backflips. It crashes and burns. It gives the people inside whiplash given that they dont pass on. One problem just grows into another and it wasn't any different for me. At the end of it all, I didn't know where I was. Who am I? What's going on? Not knowing why what's how or where is a really strange feeling. Being confused about why you're confused. It's like a sick game of Catch-22. Despair and hopelessness was all I knew. And it didn't help that I had just come out of an abusive relationship. I would stay in bed for days at a time only getting up to use the restroom or to shove anything in my mouth to get the hunger pains to go away. I didn't get it. I had everything. I had parents who were supporting me through college. I had friends whom I had pushed away at the time, I had a brand new Audi A3. But none of these things mattered anymore.  The suicidal part of all this went on for about 6 months before my mind subconciously pulled out all the bad memories from my life. Not being able to control your thoughts as they race through your worst memories, that's what it was like, and that's what it took to act on my suicidal tendency.

             I started remembering how I was abused emotionally and physically as a child. I won't go into details but let's just say that they grabbed control of my life and told me to behave a certain way and to become a certain person. When I came to, (whatever the hell that means) I realized I was just an image of what my parents raised. A simple child never encouraged to go out and explore or do the things usual kids do. I didn't know who I was. I decided that the last 20 years of my life had been a lie. But that didn't stop the nightmares from rushing back to me or stop my life from spiraling down further. 

             CVS. That's where I went to buy razors. At first, I only found those razors for women. Venus or whatever they were. (I think it was a two for four dollar pack special) Replacement blades were cheaper and they came in packs of ten. And I stood there pondering over which one I should buy, as if it mattered. I bought my gauze, wrapping band, and rubbing alcohol along with it. I also donated blood to see how much blood I would need to lose to start feeling dizzy. I only practiced at first so that I would have the means to do it when it was truly unbearable. I felt it would also give me time to write my note... I'll never forget what it felt like, forcing sharp metal objects through my flesh and veins to draw blood, wishing for the courage to push harder. I really did want to die but cutting did something for me. It made me feel like I had accomplished something when the panic faded. And when that feeling faded, I felt numb. Good, Bad, I was feeling anything but. I never felt so neutral about life ever. But it was much better than feeling hopeless. And that was my vice. It was an addiction to my own drug system. The last time I harmed myself was right around three months ago. I'm glad I had some self control enough to stop after two months.But those two months have scarred me for life inside and out. I am not the same person anymore. How could I be? I died just a tad bit inside. I've learned to hold myself back from trusting people.

             I'm 21 now.  Call me what you want. Call me emo. Call me an ingrate to my parents. Call me immature. Tell me that I don't have the guts to stop calling myself a victim. Because I am all of these things. I am all this and more. I'm broken and I need help, but someone point somewhere and tell me where to turn to. My scars carry a stigma that wont be taken in with open arms. I feel that I have the energy to get up and try again at life but the long sentences written on my arm hold me back. People won't understand that this was a healing process. I honestly don't know how the people aorund me will react. But I won't erase what I've gained in the past months. I gave myself a second chance at life and I've only been able to realize that through this chapter in my life. This was my price to a second chance but its the very thing that's holding me back. Another Catch-22. Well that's life isn't it? And I figure... you don't know what life is going to throw at you. I'll just wait it out and see how all this unfolds.

kevindoe kevindoe
18-21
2 Responses Mar 1, 2010

Alll them names you are but so is anyone that use's anything to harm themselves! be it cutting , drugs, drink or etc.. <br />
I totally no what it means to be hiding what you've done ! I'm unemployed ... but the first thing i think about before i even apply for a job is the uniform... no long sleeves , I'm not applying!! wish it was different ...

Alll them names you are but so is anyone that use's anything to harm themselves! be it cutting , drugs, drink or etc.. <br />
I totally no what it means to be hiding what you've done ! I'm unemployed ... but the first thing i think about before i even apply for a job is the uniform... no long sleeves , I'm not applying!! wish it was different ...