Cutting.

Cutting. A weakness like drugs that takes you over. It relieves pain, and stress. But in the end you get more stress then ever.   I heard some do it for the joy of the pain, or just to feel something. Why would you want to feel something? Why would you want to feel pain out of all the emotions in the world? Isn’t love something you would want to enjoy? Or happiness? Others do it out of pity for their life. They want to know somebody is still here for them. I can’t blame them for this. Then their are the attention-hogs. The one’s who post that their going to commit sucide everyday, but never actually do it. They make a couple marks to prove to everybody they were serious, even though there not. A few actually cut for fun. Not a lot, but there are a few. Then there’s me. I cut to make the pain go away. I cut so I go numb, and no longer have to care what people think. You just go to school because it doesn’t matter;your grades stay above a C average, and everything just seems so dull. You might laugh, but think about it. Since you started cutting, have you ever been truly happy? Don’t just say yes because you want everyone to think your okay, You won’t even admit it to youself, but your not happy. You were never. You were always the kid that was left out of things, or you choose too. Then when you got older, you felt the need to be in some sort of group. You’re in a group that doesn’t understand you, and they laugh and joke. You sit quitely. Your actually a pretty witty person, but very closed off. You love  them and wish you could be more free spirted like they are. By now, You’re hanging out with a few people that do get you. They have way more experiance with cutting. In fact you have never done it. You promised yourself you would be able to go goth, without going emo. Something happens, and suddenly your whole earth shatters. You call that one friend and ask him how,  he gives you instuctions, but advices you not too. You feel a rush of axciety and suddenly it vanishes as you say Okay and hang up. You walk up to a random knife. You grab it  and rub it across your skin toying with it. Finally, after fighting with the voices telling you not too,  you press it against your skin. You look at the blood, witch doesn’t come easily with the knife your using. You saw at your arm, It hurts but as soon as blood spills, your memorized.  Its beautiful. You watch it for just a moment. The blood makes everything feel okay.  You are happy. Once in you’re life, you feel compelete.   Suddenly, a feeling of disgust rushes over you. You fight and ask yourself what you just did, and you rush to something that would stop the bleeding. Your stomach is queezy. Did you just cut for the first time? Was that really you? You fight to find peace in your head. You go take a shower, trying to wash the gulit away. It doesn’t work. Why. Forget about it. Forget what just happened.Never again You promise yourself. Somehow.. the vow is broken somewhere along the way. You feel you failed yourself with every cut you make. Before long, your arm is covered with cuts from your wrist, to you elbow. You fear to wear anything that would show people who you really are, they wouldn’t understand. You eventually tell somebody, Somebody you trust. Somebody who won’t tell, but the truth is, you know your wrong. If they told everyone, that would be the least of your worries. You still have your family.   I don’t know if thats anyone else, but thats me. Thats how I felt.Thats what happened to me.

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Sorry Its not a poem, I could write one right now.