WARNING! This may be triggering for some!

Imagine that you are driving with a friend. You turn to her and say, "I don't feel like living anymore. Mind if I get into an accident?" Your friend tells you to go ahead because this is the same conversation you and your friend have everytime either one of you is driving for a while. It's always joking, but sometimes your scared when you are the one driving because you know that if you weren't worried about your friends safetly, you would get into the accident you had spoke of.

Or think of when you are washing the dishes and you break a glass accidently. WHat's the first thing that goes through your mind? How about the thought of taking that broken piece of glass and making yourself bleed?

Maybe you are using an exacto knife in art class, and you are tempted to just cut yourself with it and claim that the blade slipped.

Imagine that you are having a bad day... a fight with a friend, a rejection from a boy, a bad grade, or being told that you are not good enough. And this is what you do about it. You sit alone in your bedroom with a blade taken from a box cutter or something. After making sure that the door is locked, you sit down and press the blade on your skin. You drag it across, keeping the pressure. Blood wells and spills. You repeat the process once more. The two streams of blood join into one rivulet and spills down your arm onto a paper towel. After about a minute, you wipe your arm and put your blade away where no one will find it. You make sure you are wearing a dark colored shirt, because you know the bleeding won't stop right away but you don't want any noticeable stains. Then, with your arm still bleeding into your dark sleeve, you fall into a peaceful slumber... safely tucked away in your own bed.

Not you? That is how some people feel.

So... here's my story.

OK... eighth grade was horrible. It was the year that everybody decided to be really clique-ish. Two girls decided to break my best friend and I up... I guess our close friendship intimidated them or something... I don't know. Whatever their reasons, their plan worked. My friend and I hated each other. Sure I made new friends, but they weren't the same.

The whole year became one depressing time for me. I dreaded school for the first time in my life. Popular people were starting to be mean to the average kids (me), and I already felt so alone. So... one day I decided that dying would be better than living like this.

I had a pair of scissors and started cutting at my wrist. I wimped out and didn't cut deep enough to kill myself (luckily?). But, that night is the night that I found that I felt better after making the cuts. They weren't too deep, and were easily hidden with many bracelets. These bracelets had sayings like "WWJD?" and other Christian messges on them... ironic, since i wasn't acting very Christian there, huh.

Some of my friends found out about my wimped out attempt at suicide, and got angry with me. Not the reaction I would have expected, but it worked to guilt me into never trying it again, no matter how often the idea pops into my head.

I still felt horrible, though, and was scared to tell anybody how I felt. Scared that my family would think I was crazy, and scared that my friends would be scared to be my friends. So, I kept feelings bottled inside and the only way to release them was with a blade. I don't know exactly when cutting became my usual problem solver, but it eventually did. It was my first and last resort whenever something was wrong.

By the end of the year, my best friend and I were friends again. I don't think our friendship has ever been the same as it was before, but it's good. I have two best friends now because I had the time to make another good friend.

They both found out about my cutting, one friend over the summer and the other found out in ninth grade. One friend had basically understood because she's as screwed up as I am, and the other kinda avoids the subject and I'm not too sure how well she understands it, but she's never totally freaked out about it so that's cool.

At some points in the past about five years, I've been able to stop myself from cutting for months at a time. Just when I think that I'm over it, I end up cutting again. I've tried to stop, but it's become my only way to feel normal now. I don't think I'd be able to function without it, I try to lots of times.

I think my worst year for SI (self injury) was my senior year in highschool. I don't really know why. It was my happiest school year... but I guess there were many stressors about graduating, going to college, and entering the world as an adult. That year I burned myself for the first time. It works faster than cutting does, but it also seems to fade faster... the feelings come back and I have to burn more often than I have to cut. So my senior year gave me the biggest scars out of them all.

My family found out about my cutting and burning last summer. I went to a psychologist once. Just once, and it didn't do much. I've cut myself a couple times since then. I haven't burned since then, though... that's mostly because I lost my lighter and haven't been able to get a new one.

I'm not condoning self mutilation... and I'm not saying it's cool and that you should go out and do it, if you don't already. I'm just telling my story... but never ever get involved with this.

This is here for cutters to know that they are not the only ones out there. There are many people who have to deal with this problem also. THere are plenty of websites made by these people.

And this is here for friends and family of cutters... maybe my story can help you understand better... if not, there are plenty of other sites out there to learn about this. 1