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Self awareness

Well hello. I am Jaden, I'm 18 and live in Tennessee. Before all of you start assuming, yes there are a bunch of hicks down here but I'm not one of them.

Well I will start from the only place there is, the beginning. I grew up in a nice house with my parents. When I was 5 my father slit his wrists, leaving me and my mother on our own. My mother never did take my dad taking his own life very well. She became very distant from everyone, including me. I went and lived with my Sister and her husband. After about 3 months of living there and finally feeling a little normal again, on my 6th birthday my mom didn't show up. I didn't think too much of it but when we went by her house all I remember was my sister screaming and Josh (Her husband) covering my eyes and taking me outside. My mother had hung herself in her bedroom.

I always felt like it was my fault. Like if I was a better kid my dad wouldn't have killed himself and if I wouldn't have left my mother she wouldn't have either. I never could get over it.

The passing of both my parents haunted me over the next 8 years. By the time I was 14 I had taken up one of my fathers old habits. Self induced pain. I started out putting needles in my arms. Then it escalated into cutting. I never thought of myself as crazy. Quiet normal considering what I had been through. Cutting was always my escape. I could see my blood and know I did it myself and I felt it was the one thing I could control in my life.Self induced pain. I loved it.

By the time I was 16 I had been in and out of mental hospitals. I knew I wasn't crazy but no one else seemed to think the same. I continued cutting. I had gotten out for good when I was about to turn 17. My sister had finally given up on the fact that I was going to get better and she knew that being in those god awful places just had made the habit worse. So I got to stay home.... Yayy.

I didn't have too many friends. I always thought of most people as idiots who didn't deserve to breathe the same air I did. I hated almost everyone. So the friends I had become my family. I thought of Katie(sis) and Josh and back stabbers for putting me in those places so I moved out when I turned 17 and moved in with a good friend of mine Erika.

I always had friends who were into drugs, so it probably comes as no surprise to learn most of them had over dosed. I didn't know what to do. I hated seeing them all pass but I couldn't do anything. Cutting was the one thing I could always count on.

I have always loved experimenting with different body mods (Tattoos, piercing's), but I always thought people who cut and branded where depressed people. But now I think there just trying to find themselves. Well about a month ago I was at my house and got a call from a friend of mine telling me my boyfriend had just been killed in a car wreck. I couldn't breathe. I ran to the bathroom and reached under the sink, there was a scalpel taped underneath. I pressed the shiny blade to my skin a slowly pulled it across. The blood ran down my arm, to my fingers until it fell to the ground. I have never felt so much peace in my life. Its almost like the only thing I have control over. My roommate Erika walked in and took me to the hospital (Against me will) and I had to receive 44 stitches.

Nothing else was done, although I did think that I would go back to a damn nut house considering my past, but I tried to explain how I felt about it and I didn't do it because I'm crazy, but because it lets me know I can still feel. I also explained that Alex (my boyfriend) had just been killed and I shouldn't have done it, which I was just trying to get out of going to a mental hospital.

I was under suicide watch in the hospital over the next 2 days and finally got to go home. The day I got home Erika was also watching me like a hawk. I couldn't understand why she was so worried, because she has known all along I have. But she probably thought I would kill myself just the doctors. I cant blame her for watching me. But I could never do it. I saw how bad it affected my family when my parents killed them selves and I'm not that selfish. Nor have I ever been.

The next day I had to go to Alex's funeral. Erika and even the doctors called and said it wouldn't be a good idea if I went. But I had to go. I loved him with all my heart and had to say goodbye. I went and it was terrible. I could stop crying and every one there kept telling me how sorry they were and told me how he talked about me all the time. It just upset me more.

I came home and went in the bathroom, cried my eyes out of about an hour and then cut again. I cut along my chest, where my heart is. That's where all the pain really is. I doctored myself and even gave myself stitches and went on my merry way. I will never forget Alex, or my parents for that matter. But at least I still have one thing I know that no one can take from me. My pain, self inflicted or other wise.

I wouldn't recommend cutting to anyone, but if you should try it, please know when to stop. That's where ALOT of people mess up. I hope you liked my story. Thank you.

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submitted by: Anonymous
on: 18 July 2005
in Scarification

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