Stay Strong: The Diaries of a Cutter. (On Hold!)

~Max~

~Max~

People don’t understand me. They call me a liar all the time; they say I’m crazy because I can see things nobody else can. I’m not crazy and I lie only a little bit, it’s not my fault I’m a sensitive.

Sensitive’s can see and feel dead people. I got it from my Grandma; my mom’s only an empath. She can feel all her kids and loved ones. She doesn’t believe me when I say I can see and hear the things I do, she calls me an attention seeker. I’m not though, I hate being social. Nobody understands that talking to the dead is better than talking to the living. They don't judge you, well the dead people I’ve met don’t judge, they understand.

When I was fifteen my boyfriend Jimmy and I were in a car accident, he died. But he still follows me around everywhere. He’s my safety blanket if you may.

But it’s not all happy-go-lucky times for me, when I tell people what I see and try to make them understand they call me a liar or attention whore, I get really upset and I cut. I’ve been cutting since I was thirteen, that’s four years. Sometimes it doesn’t hurt but others it hurts like hell. But in the end it makes me feel better, Jimmy hates it when I do that. He says I’m ruining a perfect piece of art. Some days I think I’m fucking crazy for being able to do this. Its insanity, really it is. I’m sick and tired of not being trusted or believed. When I was fifteen I was diagnosed as a bipolar. When I get angry at people afterwards I have a mental break d

My mom is sending me to Ocean View to ‘cure’ me. I can’t be cured I’m cursed. My Grandma always said I was bless with a curse, when I was little I didn’t know what she meant by that but now I do. My name’s Max, I’m from Scranton, Pennsylvania. I’m going to Ocean View to make it seem like I’ve gotten better so I don’t end up in a loony bin.