Cutting

People tend to think that cutters cut themselves because they are stupid, attention-seeking, and/or masochistic. That is true for probably quite a bit of cases. However, the only ones that they know about are the ones they see. My friend said, "None of my friends have ever cut themselves." I looked at him and laughed. He had no idea and I was not going to destroy his perception.

Why do I cut?

I want everything to just stop. I want time to freeze, the pain to stop, the noise to die. How ironic, I cut to stop pain. Isn't that funny? Psychologists say that cutting is used as a coping mechanism because people sometimes feel like it releases a sense of soothing over them. That is probably true. It is rather disgusting that when I am crying I just think, "I want my razor." How pathetic is that? 

Sometimes, I just wish I could freeze everything and just fall into a deep black pit where I can curl up and stop thinking. I was on the car on the way to send my brother to college for the first time. I was curled up under a huge sweatshirt, Paul's sweatshirt. My parents started yelling at me. I was a failure again, a worthless piece of s***, a wasted investment. I was just wasting tuition money and time. They wanted Casey, Caley, Amy, Cathie, anyone to be their daughter. I was a failure as a teenager, useless, and not worth their time. They don't know I try so hard. They didn't know that my math grade slipped because we had a math test. We usually got only 2 tests a semester and there's 2 semesters at my school. I had not been sleeping or eating all week. I was just trying to make myself live. I got a 58. I wasn't remotely surprised. I wasn't dead and that's all I really cared about. They yelled at me over and over again. I had been studying all summer. It's not like I can change my grades now but I'm trying my best for next year. I know I failed. I know already. I'm still trying though. I'm trying to learn 6 languages on my own now before college. I want to have hope for the future. I can't tell them though because it's my own goal, I don't need their help. 

I covered my head with the hoodie of the jacket and I cried for an hour until we got to Duke. I was texting my friend and he was responding every couple seconds. He was telling me that I can't cut myself, I can't die, that I have to keep trying. We got to Duke and I was still crying. My parents and my brother unloaded the car. I had a razor in my book-bag. I kept it with me everywhere. It gives me the choice of whether to do it or not. I want to choose not and I'd like to think I usually do. However, it is much easier to cut the scars isn't it? 

My dad got in the car and started yelling at me for not shutting up and stop crying. He saw me texting again and he grabbed my cell phone away. He stormed out. I didn't know what to do. I wanted it to stop. I wanted the stress to stop. I wanted the pain to stop, the disappointment to end. Quickly, I dug a line on my arm. It was bleeding fast enough. There wasn't blood coming out. For the first time, I cut my wrist. The blood came out really quickly and incessantly. I kept cutting over and over again wanting the blood to come. I just wanted to bleed because then the pain would stop. That's stupid I know but sometimes I cannot help but wish that it was true and hope that it comes true. I wanted to hurt myself, I just wanted everything to end. Don't get me wrong. I didn't want to die. The cuts were really shallow. I just wanted to mute everything, shut the world off. I'm a coward and a weakling. I should try to get stronger. 

I just started laughing in the car, over and over again, nonstop laughing. I could kill myself right here and I wasn't going to. The whole thing just seemed so stupid. My dad came in and yelled at me for crying. It is so funny how laughing and cry sound so similar. I had my arm raised, just staring at the blood flowing down my arm. He didn't know what to do so he just yelled at me, "Why don't you shut up? Why can't you just stop?" I just kept laughing. I said, "Why do just kill me then?" Still laughing. He was silent for a second and said, "What is freaking wrong with you? Shut up already, you are such an idiot." I just kept laughing. I said, "Give me back my phone and I'll stop." He unsurprisingly replied, "I will not give you back your f***ing phone." That phone was keeping me alive. It gave me the ability to get away from the hell of home, let me talk to people who cared for me. I should stop being so reliant on my friends and learn to rely on myself. I'm too dependent. 

I kept laughing and laughing. Then my mom got into the car and screamed. I couldn't stop laughing. She started crying, my dad started yelling. He was saying, "It's all your fault. You raised her like this. You fail as a mother. I had nothing to do with this. I just work." My mom was saying, "I'm sorry. It's all my fault. It's all my fault." It was so comical and so stupid. I said, "It isn't your fault? You had no part in this whatsoever?" He said, "No! It's all her fault." I just kept laughing and laughing and laughing. They didn't even think about how I the hell I cut myself. Both of them were silent. They never brought it up ever again. I can tell they are on tiptoes around me. They haven't yelled at me for a week, a new record. I hate that they do that. I wish I hadn't showed them that I cut but then again, I blatantly did it so can't change that. They did not need to know but it's a bit late, isn't it? I don't regret cutting my wrist, but I'm not happy that I did it either. I broke my promise with my friend. That's something I hate. I don't know if these cuts will leave a scar or not. I want them to fade, along with all my other ones. Only time will tell though. 

“If we hadn’t taken a wrong turn at that time, we would’ve remained as we were- ignorant to everything.” ~Ghost Hunt