It was a year ago today when I stared cutting. I thought it would help how I felt maybe it would take the emotional pain away. I was wrong, but once I started I couldn't stop. Cutting was a drug for me my own personal addiction, but after one month of enduring this horrible pain I found another way to make myself feel better. I found a real drug. I smoke weed a lot and snorted zany bars anytime I could, but they weren’t enough fro me. I finally found my calling through a boyfriend. Meth was my new addiction. When I was high on meth I felt no pain. I was invincible to anything including the thoughts of depression that tried to seep in. I found a way to control myself though.
I made a schedule I would set aside two times a week to get as fucked up as possible and once a week I would cut. It was the perfect combination to keep me from killing myself. I thought I had it all figured out there was nothing that could go wrong, but the depression kept getting worse so I would up the days. Meth three times a week cutting twice. The more I tried the worse I got until finally I was cutting and using every day of the week. I went strong with this and it worked amazingly for about a month, but then summer was over and there was no more hiding in my room. I had to go back to school I had to survive being a 15 year old girl in High School while completely sober! I thought this was going to be impossible so I went for the only thing I knew could keep me from going to school.
If there was no me then I couldn't go back to school. I grabbed the razor, locked the door, wrote the note, sat down to cry, and I was ready to die. I dug as deep as I could to make sure didn't make to much noise, but it wasn't working I kept going deeper and deeper, but I felt nothing. I thought it was never going to work, but it must have because I didn't remember anything after that. I woke up lying in a bed that looked really familiar. It was the bed I lost my virginity in, it was my boyfriend's bed. . I saw him sitting in a chair next to me re-bandaging my arm. He gave me a look no one had ever given me before, it was a caring look. He smiled and told me not to worry, that everything was going to work out for the best. I didn't believe him, but there wasn't much I could do at that point. I was too weak to move and he was the only one around to listen so I did the only thing I knew, I asked for some meth.
Chapter 1: One more time
I awoke from what seemed to be a never ending sleep 3 days after my poor attempt of committing suicide. I vaguely remembered awaking the first day and asking my boyfriend for meth, but I clearly remembered him denying me it. I was dazed and wasn't sure what happened after that, but I was more than determined to find out. I struggled, but managed to pick myself up off the filthy bed that lay on the hardwood floor. I went in search throughout the familiar house looking for my boyfriend. I found Luke in the kitchen making a bong. He didn't here me walk into the kitchen so when I touched his shoulder to get his attention he jumped and dropped the masterpiece on the floor while screaming out, "FUCK". He then realized it was me and gave me an awkward, but sincere hug. I then demanded to know what had happened the past few days.
He sat me down and explained to me how when I asked him that day for meth he said no because he figured it wouldn't mix well with all the blood I had lost. He told me that he gave me a sleeping pill so that I wouldn't have to stay awake and endure the pain. He also explained how anytime I would start to wake up he would slip another pill down my throat. I was amazed about how well he was taking everything so I reassured him by kissing him lightly on the lips. He smiled then tears started to weal up in his eyes. I looked at him in a panic and asked what was wrong. He then asked me the question I was hoping I would never have to hear from anyone, "why?” I looked down not knowing exactly how to even begin answering the question. I thought maybe I could start with the depression and how it led me to cutting, but then he would ask why I was depressed and I didn't have an answer to that. I didn't know why I was depressed I just knew there was only a few simple ways of being happy.