I've been cutting scence I was in sixth grade. That's when i first heard about it, so i tried it out. It felt so good. Like falling asleed in a warm shower, but instead of water it was blood that I was bathing in.
The first time, i was hesitant. I hade a small safety razor that was about .01mm thick and .5mm tall. But it did the job. I made three, two inch slits in my wrists. Then i started crying like i had never cried before. I didn't want to be like one of those people that ended up on the news stations, or in the odituary. I just wanted to live my life. I decided then and there that I wouldn't ever do it again. But it was use less. By the time summer had come I had to wear long sleeves all the time because of all the cut and gashes that made up m arms. When I ran out of room on my arms, I moved on to my legs, then to my chest and stomache. There was no where other than my face hands and feet that didn't have some kind of cut on it.
It was horrid. All I could think about was, What if someone sees a cut?Just one cut!? My life was misserable. I didnt want to go out anywhere anymore, or be around anyone. And swimming was totally out of the picture. So I had a hot, boring and depressing summer.
By the seventh grade my mother, who I lived alone with, started to get worried. She was so scared that I had done something terribe, which I did. She sent me to a mental hospital to see what was wrong with me. They said that I had "Manic Depression", or Bipolarism. It didnt make sence. I thought that I was happy. I thought that I could do anything taht I wanted.
The doctors didnt even know about my cutting yet. They thought that depression was the only thing that troubled me. That I was a normally depressed child.
By the time that I was in eighth everyone knew that I was "emo". That I cut myself. And it looked like there was never a way out for me. That I was doomed to be a cutter for the rest of the time that I lived.
In nineth grade I met him. He was just like me. He cut, even burned himself, just to feel like a human being. We met in our schools courtyard after lunch one day. He looked at me and walked over. Standing next to me he said. "Hello. My name is Edmund. Whats your name." It was that simple to win over my heart. After a few days we were going out. We were the "Emo Couple" of the school.
One day, Edmund looked at all the cuts on my arms (we had gotten used to each other enough to "show off" out cuts to each other) and he said, "You know, Ive been thinking. I know that you have been cutting sence you were in the sixth grade, but I think its time for you to stop. Let all the wounds heal. I'll do it with you.
It took all our will power, but by the time we were in our junior year we had finally stopped cutting. And for once I was truely happy.