Well this one ought to be obvious but I’ll write it down because I suppose it’s one of the biggest things people should know about me. It all started back in year 7 when my sharpener fell apart and me being me decided to casually draw on myself with it. I didn’t think much of it until my right hand started bleeding. I literally just went ‘what the hell’ and dropped the sharpener. One of my friends saw it as the shrill sound of the metal hitting the table drew her attention. She accused me of doing it on purpose, calling me depressed and yelling at me saying I was stupid for doing what I accidently did. No one believed me and I’d never felt so desperate to tell them otherwise. But there were five of us and I was the odd one out in the group. Of course absolutely no one believed me no matter what I said. Labels everywhere that began to bring me down until I started to believe every single word they said. I’ve always said this saying that if you call someone something long enough they will start to believe it, but no one has ever really guessed that I say that based off my past. So what happened to me? Well I got more and more upset and reserved and no longer could overlook joking insults and other words that would have seemed meaningless to anybody else. So what did I do? Just as the scars from my accidental cuts were beginning to form, I reopened them again with the very same sharpener blade that had caused the whole thing. I believe my downfall was brought on by what had happened a year before that I will explain later. All at once everything negative I’d ever fought off was brought back to me in one swift movement. It just hit me all at once and I was knocked down. At this point anything that happened to me that was bad had an amplified impact on me. I needed someone bad but I didn’t know what to do. I made friends with people I thought cared but I only ever turned out to be wrong. I think it all got better when I met this girl at the end of camp and she asked me the name of a guy she fancied. Somehow off that one question a massive friendship grew that I still have till this day. She can be known as Faith in this because she gave me a reason to have faith in this life. Without her anything at all could have happened. Our personalities with my inner darkness put aside were strikingly similar and that helped us to get along. She was my first best friend at high school since the loss of another friend in primary school I still haven’t got over. But then her pop got sick and much to Faith’s prayers and mine too (knowing what would happen to her) he died. It tore her apart so much that she took days off afterwards and when she came back she’d often end up crying. My mind is so blurred from back then that I believe that a lot of these events are misplaced on the timeline but I’m writing as well as I can. I believe that the known fact that I couldn’t help her from feeling the way she was brought me down the most. I could not bring him back from the dead. I guess her grief and watching her in so much pain hurt me almost as much as it did too. Agony of the heart is like no physical pain or any other pain for that manner. I wanted it to stop. And here I was still unable to recover from what had happened in the past. One thing after another was crushing me. And the guilt… There are no words for the intensity of it. Sometimes I have a frustrating tendency to take on others problems and try to help to the best of my abilities. Although sometimes I get too involved so when I realize nothing I will do can help the person I care about, it only hurts that much more. Some would argue against me when I label it as more of a curse rather than a gift. Doubling up on the pain, sometimes tripling… and quadrupling, it took its toll on me. I began to harm myself behind the backs of everyone I loved, hiding it as well as I could. I found myself among groups like myself, perhaps the foolish part within me thinking I was… I don’t even know. What was the purpose of it all? Well that’s just it, quickly I lost reason and fell into a routine. My actions became tainted by revenge when rage poisoned the sea of depression I was drowning in and made me lash out whenever my friends excluded me. I was just so blinded by the hatred I felt when I saw them laughing with each other content without me there. Yet I’ve never really taken my anger out on another, channelling it through the metal that releases the fury for me upon myself. It carried on through year 8 and still is carrying on... Like what you do to yourself will actually make them feel something. I guess I sort of strongly became fixated on making them hurt like I was, the beauty of knowing that they never would realize encouraging me to worsen my wounds every day. It was my way at getting back at them. Over and over again I relished the thought of dying and how others would feel without me. Selfish bittersweet thoughts that began to run my mind. In pain for me there will always be pleasure. I don’t think I will ever be able to change that. All these unexplainable torturous things I keep telling myself only fuel me on yet I can’t stop because deep down I don’t want to. Once you’re addicted you’re stuck. I don’t bother telling people now because I think they know as well as I do that I probably won’t ever stop. I don’t even try to anymore. You can call me pathetic for giving up but well… I’m not. I’m content with hurting. It’s like breathing. If someone told you to just stop breathing you wouldn’t just be able to or for that matter want to really. When I do stop, the yearning is so bad that my eyes become drawn to every object with the capabilities of inflicting pain. Eventually I crack from the strain and violently cut deeper than before until I’m satisfied once again. I struggle to maintain balance unless I release the stress out as it comes rather than letting it build up until it comes crashing out all at once.
I’d like to say that because I wrote that in the past and that things have changed. Hell I wish I could say it’s over. But I can’t really finish this chapter because I don’t when it will be. Sometimes I have to remind myself of that. When. Backspace the if. When you’ve been doubting yourself for so many years it becomes instinct to never truly believe you can achieve anything but failure. At this time, I’ve narrowed my ‘sessions’ down. I don’t know why. What’s encouraged me… I think it’s got a huge part to do with my family and little brothers in particular. I will never allow my family to find out about this. I can’t bare to watch them look at me differently than they do now. I want to agree with the theory. But the truth is I’m running out of hidden places to conceal the scars.
