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The redness flows down from the cut from a razor blade.
I look at the other scars that have started to fade.
I cry to myself seeing what I have done.
Thanks to cutting I can't ever have any fun.
I feel all hollow and sad.
My feelings used to be good, now they're bad.
When did this all start? Why is it happening to me?
Look at me! I need help from self destruction can't you see?
I cut to help my emotional pain.
but yet, I wonder, what's there to gain?
Nothing.
I'm ruining my life with this need, addiction, deadliness.
Instead of depression I need to feel happiness
I won't do it ever again.
Now I haven't cut for about 6 months.
I have realized that to cope, I should talk, not cut.
If you start, you'll need a good friend to save your butt.
Cutting is dangerous and not good for you.
Just read this poem and get a clue.
I'm not posting this for pity or for attention. I'm posting this to help others because after going through this I want to stop others from experiencing it.
I know that I haven't cut for long and that my case isn't the worst out there but I believe that it could still make a difference.
This is my story....
It started from me scratching at my skin with my nails when I would get upset. I didn't think much of it then and didn't even know what self harm was. I should have stopped and seen the signs once they started.
This continued for about a month and soon they turned into minor scratches that could have been caused by anything. No one noticed them. So I kept on doing them.
Soon, they grew from minor scratches to scratches that look liked they could have been caused from an animal or barbed wire. Soon my friends began to notice and so did my teachers at the school. One day my teacher asked me about them and I told her that they were just the cause of wrestling with my neighbors all of the time. She never said anything after that. That's when I started to wear long sleeves to cover them. After a while my mom noticed and would ask me what happened, I used to come up with all sorts of excuses.
Not too long after that they grew worse and even more noticable. I started to become more distant and dark. Everyone could see the sadness that was on my face, even when I would fake a smile but no one would ask. Pretty soon I realized that I was dragging some of my closest friends down with me and I got even more upset and started to cut more.
Soon my cuts started to become more frequent. My mom finally figured it out. She only asked once and never said anything again. I became suicidal and tried to kill myself by overdosing. Luckily a really good friend was there for me...
When DFCS stepped in they sent me, my brother and sister to a basic level foster home because my dad was sexually abusing me. When I got put there my cuts became really deep and they began to multiply like crazy. When my DFCS worker noticed he knew he had to do something.
I was supposed to just go in for a normal check-up at the doctor's. I didn't know that I was going to be shipped to Georgia Regional, which is a mental facility. I was in the hospital for about 4 hours before I was taken away in hand cuffs riding in a police car to the clinic.
I was there for a week and 3 days. Then I was shipped to a shelter. I stayed there for a good 3 months. While I was there I would make cuts and hide them, or scratch at my arm until it would bleed. At one point in time I got a pair of scissors and cut my ankle and my arm. That's when they told me that they would have to ship me back to the clinic if I didn't stop. I didn't want to go back so I quit for a while. They soon found me a theraputic foster placement. I was only in that placement for a week, the same as the other one. This time I took a razor blade to school and got caught. I got charged with a fellony of possession of weaponry on school grounds. I was then shipped back to the shelter.
I stayed at the shelter for another 3 months. This time I was shipped to a locked down facility. They charted my scars and would check me every so often to make sure that I had not made any new marks. If I had then I would immediatly be shipped back to the clinic. No if's and's or but's.
So many times I wanted to harm myself. So many times I cried because of what I did to myself and what I put myself, my family, and my friends through.
After 6 months of being there, I finally got to come home. Just because I'm home now doesn't change anything. I still have the urges, the want, and the same consequences if I do anything. Except this time, if I do anything, I might not come back home...
Cutting doesn't just go away like that and neither do the urges. Sometimes I have to do whatever I can to keep myself from picking up those scissors, that knife, that needle...Sometimes I wish that I had just killed myself when I had a chance to and then I wouldn't feel this way. But in the end, it was because of all of the support and love that I had gotten from everyone close to me that kept me going, that made me this strong. I wish there was something that I could do to show everyone how thankful I am for all that they have done. But in all honesty, all I can do is say Thank You Everyone! mrgreen heart
So if you know anyone that is cutting or anyone that has the signs of cutting, please, don't wait until there is nothing that you can do. Talk to them, try to make them understand. Don't just sit around and watch them slowly die in front of you. If you do, then you were never a true friend in the first place.
And before anyone says "your just some emo loser looking for attention" and flaming this post think about what your doing. Trust me, you WILL get yours! scream
Thank you for reading this and taking the time to understand.
With love from me,
Danielle <3
 Apathetic One · Wed May 24, 2006 @ 10:40am · 2 Comments |
