Once Upon a Time

I think the first time I cut myself I was about 10 years old. I'd never heard of cutting or anything like that, but I was constantly depressed, and tried to do things like carve a guy's name into my hand. It didn't work because I didn't have anything sharp enough, but I managed to at least bleed some. I remember reasoning at some point "If I hurt so much inside, then why shouldn't I hurt on the outside?" Every time I reexamine that thought from a sane viewpoint, it doesn't make any sense at all.

Shortly thereafter I moved, and in the mess of things happening I had better things to do than play with a pocketknife, but when I was about 13 I started again. I had this really great pair of scissors that I loved more than anything, and I'd use it to cut little holes, slowly squeezing them shut so that they shaved off a layer of skin in one little spot. A friend of mine noticed, as she was a cutter herself and didn't want anyone else to end up like her (she was in and out of rehab for drug use and attempted suicide. best friend ever, really), and turned me in to the school counselor. The counselor asked stupid questions and called my mother about it all.

I quit as a promise to my best friends at the time. I never really forgave my mother for not doing anything- she basically shrugged it off as a thing kids do, a phase, maybe something that runs in the family. We never talked about it, I never went to any sort of therapy, it was almost like it never happened. Once or twice she pointed at my arms and said "You're not doing anything to yourself again, are you?" and once or twice my grandmother (who lived with us) made a snide remark about how I thought I could be lazy just because I thought I was so depressed. And that was that.

When I was 15 I started again, off and on. At first, I felt terrible afterwards, because I had promised my friend that I wouldn't do that. However, I rationalized that he wasn't my best friend anymore- we hadn't spoken in a very long time. I had acquired a new pocketknife, a sharp one, so I could cut myself proper. I passed off a few stray marks as cat scratches, a patch of one-on-top-of-another cuts as a marching band injury. For a while, every night before I showered I would stand naked in front of the wall-mirror in the bathroom and put cut after cut between my breasts, the only place where I felt certain nobody would see them and ask questions. I felt an odd sort of satisfcation in the way the shallow red cuts stood out on the pale skin of my chest.

Of course, somebody did see them. My boyfriend (now ex) saw them one night, and I'll never forget the look on his face. He took my knife from me and held on to it until he felt he could trust me with it again.

Since then I've felt the urge once or twice, but never strong enough to actually do anything about it. I think I'm over it. I still have scars, of course, but I'm lucky- I scar easily, but they disappear quickly also, replaced by newer, legitimate injuries. One is visible on my wrist, and in certain lights, very fine lines can be seen on my chest. That, the knife, and some terrible poetry are all I have left from that.
Nymor Nymor
18-21, T
1 Response Sep 17, 2006

Wow. Well Nymor, No One Has Commented Yet. And I Read This And It Wasn't Too Long Ago, It Says It Was Posted September 12. Well It's The Day After Halloween Right Now. November 1st, So I Decided I Might As Well Register And Comment. I Play This Game Called Habbo, And It's Like A Virtual Chatroom. I Have Lots Of Friends On It That Cut. And Contemplate Suicide. My Best Friend Christina Plays It (Nah I Dont Know Her In Real Life, But I Can Trust Her And Not My Real Life Friends. Ironic Isn't It?) And She Cuts Too. She Showed Me Her Scars On Webcam And She's Shown Me Her Blood And Everything. I Know A Lot About Cutting And Im Really Interested In It. Im Not Suicidal, Or Emo. Im Far From It But Im Still Interested. I Wanna Know What Got You Depressed. And Why Do You Cut? What Does It Help If Your Hurting Yourself More On The Outside Even Though Your Hurt On The Inside? Just Explain It To Me. x_x. And How Old Are You, 15? 16? I Also Want To Know Whens The Last Time You Cut. Alright, Later.