Cutting - what once was my silver savior

by stephanie
(kernersville, n.c)

my name is Stephanie and Im 15 years old.Most of my childhood memories consist of mommy popping pills and daddy yelling, but then someone would take me by the hands and lead me away. But as time passed, people stopped doing that and i finally found out what was going on.

I had always been different in school because of the way i looked and how strong my southern accent was. But i knew, when i was younger, no matter what they would say mommy could always make it better. But when i turned 10 and entered the 4th grade, everything changed. Mommy could no longer take care of herself, much less me so i had no one.

One day when i was home alone, i started cutting. I had finally found a way to feel outside what i felt on the inside. Though being only 10 i could just blame it on playing to much and no one would notice. I cut myself almost everyday after i came home from school,crying most of the time,screamimg that i didnt want to go back. I went and still go to a private school so i couldnt escape those children, whose mission in life was to hurt me.

At home was no better either with the constant yelling, door slamming, and car wheels screaming out of the driveway into the night. But when i cut, nothing else mattered to me. i could cut and just sit there, devoid of any emotion and i would feel okay.

I became withdrawn and wouldnt talk or socialize with anyone. Later on that year, when i could no longer figure out how to block out the things going on at home and school, i tried to kill my self. 2 months after my attempt my dad filed for a divorce and took me away.

I then had someone in my life who finally paid attention and knew what was going on.When i was 12 the divorce was finalized but by that point i hated the one some of you call mother. i still hate her but thats beside the point.

A year later i started cutting again. For no appearent reason i had gone into a depression that got to the point that the school officials started to take notice.

Today i still cut myself sometimes when that gaping hollow feeling in my chest becomes unbearable. The skin on my chest and legs are marred with the reminders of a sad past, but i refuse to let my self become that person who hates themselves for someone elses mistake.

please if you are reading this and are that someone, please contact me. Things hurt and no one knows that better than me.

much love,
stephanie