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Promise

 WARNING: This story contains issues with cutting that I have yet to resolve. Don't follow my path.

I stomp up the stairs and into the house. I slammed my backpack down onto the table and then ran into the bathroom. I searched around in my cupboard for my hair trimming scissors. "I've heard about this before, I wonder if it will help me." I thought to myself. I open up the scissors, pull up my sleeve. Place the tip of the scissors on my skin and swipe it across fast. I loved the feeling.

This was my first time ever cutting. I was in 6th grade. I had heard about cutting from some of my friends. One former friend that I had had named Cassie. She cut. She carved shapes, words, names and just plain lines on her arm. She inspired me. One day when all the bullying in my school got over the edge, I just decided I would use her method and cut myself. The pain that I felt wasn't like normal pain. It was nice pain. I didn't understand it at fist but then I finally did.

My dad has moved out on us around 3 times and my parents have filed for divorce a couple of times too. It was so hard every time he moved out. Switching back and forth between houses. My dad lived in a camper at the time outside of my grandmother's house. It was hard because I had no friends there and I wasn't really aloud to do anything because it would be our time with dad. Christmas time would always be so hard; we would have to put the tree up by ourselves. I hated life when dad wasn't there.

I remember one time when my dad had this girlfriend named Dawn, and my mom had this boyfriend named Dale. My mom was out for the night with Dale and it was our time to spend with dad. Well my dad got furious and wanted to go see who Dale was and everything. Well my mom was at the movies and dad didn't want to leave my sister and I home alone so he took us with her. We were at the movie theater and my dad and my mom got into a huge fight in the parking lot. My aunt tried to pull me out of the car by my hair. Yup, that night ended with the police.

I have been cutting for 2 years now. I am in the 8th grade almost finishing it. I have met a lot of new friends through my experiences at middle school. Some friends, and some enemies. It's not your decision on who likes you and who doesn't. It's there opinion. Every time I cut myself I feel like a whole new person... cutting for me feels like I am just being re-born. Some people tell me I am crazy, and some people care. Some people think I am doing it for attention too. One of my best friends, Sam, she protects me. Every time I tell her I am thinking of doing it, she threatens me. I have made a promise to her that I wouldn't cut myself anymore. I always end up breaking my promise.

Just a couple of days ago... Like three Mondays ago. She saw my wrist when I put my arm out to my friend for her perfume because we were getting ready to go to a play. She grabbed my arm... and beat me up. Not really beating on me, but she sat on me until I promised not to do it ever again. I promised, and so far I have kept that promise, and it hasn't been broken... YET.

I know some people who cut for attention, it drives me insane. There is no reason for you to be doing that if you have no reason. I write poems about my cutting problems, just like another one of my really close friends does. One day I was showing my poems to my teacher. He was reading them and I guess he got concerned. He told me it was his "job" to report anything that he found suspicious. Our guidance consular called me down to her office one day when I was in Mr. B's classroom. And she talked to me about Self-Injuring and Self-Mutilation. I just sat there and listened. She asked me if I cut myself. I told her yes even though she had no right to know. She went on about how important this was and things. I told her she had no right being in my business anyway.

One night my friend, Kayla, was over at my house and the phone rang. I answered it. The other line was like "Hello is Mrs. there." I was like... "Ummm, yup one moment." I knew who it was anyway but I still got scared. I didn't want my mom to find out. After my mom hung up she was like that was your guidance consular.. She told me you had a talk. And I explained everything to her. She told me if I ever cut again and she found out about it I was going to Acadia. I'm still a cutter, and I don't know if my mother will go through with what she has said to me or not. But frankly, I just think any place is better than here.

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submitted by: Anonymous
on: 31 March 2006
in Ritual

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Artist: some+girl+with+scars
Studio: my+bathroom+floor
Location: my+house.

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