Why

People ask me, why? Why do I do it? What could make my life so bad that I would want to harm myself in this way? What do I tell them? The truth? The truth is an awful thing, and sometimes even though you know you need to hear it you just can't handle it. You can't handle the truth behind my reason, because even I still deny it. I tell myself it never happened, hoping it would all just go away. Did this work for me you ask. Just take a look at me, no not a once over. Actually look at my body…do you see them? These little imposters on my arms, legs, and stomach. Can't you see them? Most people just look at my so called pretty face. They don't see what's inside, the true me. Yes I play it off well, so I guess I'm to blame for them not seeing me. I act all happy and outgoing out with friends and around family. Once locked away in my sacred place, most call my room; I'm a whole different person. I become a person who is afraid of everything, and everyone. Who becomes a stressful disaster. Memories flood back into my head. They take over all the good that may have been there with me. They call to me, they tell me to release my feelings. To let it all out. I listen to them…I want to rid myself of these memories; of this pain. I guess I should back track a bit. At least tell you what started all of my maniac-ness. Ok so it's not the prettiest of all stories, but then again it could have been much worse.

It was the summer of 2005, I think it was on a Wednesday. Near the end of summer. I was just starting to take an interest in guys. I know kinda late, but that's how I was brought up. I never really was into the whole dating thing…I was a very independent person and always was. But this one boy caught my eye. I don't wanna say he was my first love, because he defiantly wasn't. But the way he looked at me and spoke to me made me feel good about myself. So I was an idiot and went along. A few weeks passed of talking and getting to know this boy. He really seemed interested in me. This to me was a big surprise considering my best friend was 10 times hotter than me. Well anyways, I was in the pool and I had cut my finger on the side. The concrete was falling apart, they did an awful job. So I got out and went to the bathroom to wash it off. What I didn't realize was that this boy had followed me into the bathroom. I heard the door shut behind me, I turned to see him lock it. I asked him what he was doing in here, he was silent. He walked towards me; looked me up and down. He pressed his body up against my own. I backed as far away from him as I could until I was between him and the wall. I felt my heart start to race and my limbs tremble. He went straight for my bikini, his fingers clawing at my top. I tried to push him away but he was a bit stronger than I. He pressed his body closer to mine; I felt the wall push into my skin. I tried to scream for help, but before I could get a word out his hand clasped over my mouth. He kept working on my top, as I thought of what was to come I felt the hot tears stream down my face and over the top of his cold hard hand. Just as I thought there was no way out a knock on the locked door gave me hope. A lady's voice called out, she asked if anyone was in here. I tried to answer but his hand held tighter over my mouth, he leaned his face down to my ear and told me not to say a word. He told me that if I told anyone I would regret it, and I believed him. He let me go as the door started to unlock. He hid himself in one of the bathroom stalls. As soon as the door opened I rushed as fast as I could out of that horrid place. A place where I would never forget, one I would never go back to alone. I pulled myself together, walked over to my table, grabbed my things and walked out of the pool. I looked back over my shoulder to him, just standing there staring at me with his two cold black eyes.

That was the start of it all. Just that one event changed my life forever. I never did tell anybody, the fear of him finding me made me keep my mouth shut. I had dreams of that day over and over for months. I would wake up and have hand prints on my body from where he held me. Even a few scratches on my back from the wall I was forced up against. That is when the voices started calling to me, they told me I could get rid of these dreams and all my pain. Just by doing one simple thing. All I had to do was release; let go; cut. At first I didn't see how that would help me get rid of what happened. They just kept telling me that they knew what they were talking about, just to trust them. And so I did, I put myself in their hands. They told me everything, where to get my blade, where to make the first incision, and what to do with it afterwards. They were like mentors, taught me all I know today. How to hide the scars and how to lie when your parents ask about a cut. It was all so easy. I remember the very first time I placed that sharp object to my skin.

I walked down to the kitchen, opened up the drawer closest to the frigid. There it was, just like they said it would be. Sitting in the back was my first weapon. A lime green pocket knife, it was shouting my name. Telling me not to be afraid, that it was going to become my very best friend.

Ok so good or bad. Plz let me know.