Author's Note: I'm going to say this right now so everyone is clear. I had something important to say, and I decided to use Sho to do it. The story is not specific though, so it could be told from anybody's perspective. Which is kind of the point, since this can happen to anybody. I just really want to get the message out there, because it's important to me.
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! GX. Big surprise.
I only did it once. I just wanted to punish everybody for hurting me. If I cut myself, everyone would feel bad, and then they'd be nicer. I couldn't show anybody though. I chickened out. It wasn't a big deal anyway, or so I though. So I cut myself once. It wasn't deep, or long. It was just a little cut on my wrist that I blamed on Pharaoh. No big deal, right?
Wrong. I want to cut again. It's like a cigarette. All you need is one. I don't really want to cut though. It's a weird feeling. It's like my body wants to, but my heart doesn't. Or maybe it's the other way around . . . I mean, it hurts my body, not my heart. So yeah, my heart wants to, but my body doesn't. And I don't know who will win.
It really doesn't help that there's a blade sitting right in front of me. One of those sharp ones used for meat. Okay, it's not really sitting there. I kind of stole it . . . I didn't mean to though! It just sort of happened. I didn't think about it, I just did it. And now it's on my bed and I don't know what to do with it. Well, other than cut myself. I'd throw it out, or take it back, but I don't trust myself enough to touch it. And if I ask someone else to take it, they'll want to know why. I don't want to tell anybody. It's too embarrassing.
So now I'm stuck with a blade on my bed. And a very strong desire to cut. My hands are even shaking. Maybe if I just cut one more time, the feeling will go away. It can't get any worse, can it? Yeah, I'll just cut myself one more time, and then I'll never do it again. I just want to feel the blade pierce my skin. I want to slowly drag the blade across my skin. I want to watch the blood as it leaves my body. I want to feel the pain, but only one more time.
I couldn't stop . . . it just kept going from my wrist to my elbow, like ladder rungs going up my arm. I want to say that I think it's disgusting, and that I'll never cut again, but I actually . . . like the way it looks. It's like artwork on my skin. I don't think that this will be the last time . . . I don't really want to stop right now. It's not hurting anyone but me, and our uniforms are always long sleeves, so it'll be easy to hide. Why should I stop?
I shouldn't stop. That's right. As long as no one finds out, then it'll be fine. Yes, and I'll be careful. I won't make them really deep or anything. It'll be fine.
It isn't fine. I have no control anymore. I hate it. It's taken over my life. All I think about is cutting. I think about hiding the cuts and hiding the blades. I'm paranoid that everyone somehow knows about it, and they're all talking about me and judging me behind my back. I try to fight the desires, but I always end up failing.
I should have never started. If I did tell people about it, I'd only do it to warn everybody to never start. You may think that you're in control when you start, and once you want to stop, it'll be too late. I wish I could tell the world that cutting is a scary cycle that never ends. Even if you manage to stop, the scars will be there forever.
Please, don't pick up the blade.