I don’t know why I always feel like this. I can’t even remember when it started but now all I can feel is empty. It’s like there’s nothing inside me anymore. The only emotion I feel is sadness and I don’t even know if that’s real anymore. Everything I say sounds stupid even to myself. I have no value in my own eyes because everyone has degraded me way past the point where I could ever have any respect for myself ever again. I’m a freshman in high school and have been cutting on and off since I was in 7th grade. I constantly feel depressed and the slightest things will send me off the edge. My dad has anger issues and he tends to take it out on me and my mom. That never bothered me until I realized neither of us deserved it. The day he picked me up by my neck and slammed me against a bookshelf for walking away from a fight was the day I started cutting. It wasn’t because I was so sad that he did it, it was because I felt so guilty for walking away. I always cut because I feel guilty. When I let someone down, or I don’t measure up to someone’s expectations I cut. Nothing compared to when my parents found out I cut a year ago and my dad screamed at me calling me a stupid attention seeking shit for doing it. That just made me want to cut more. They hid all the knives from me, but they had/have no idea I cut with glass. Thick shards that rip the skin painfully, and leave jagged, bloody marks that make me happy every time I see them. I feel like they are the only things that truly belong to me; my scars. They never leave me and they represent every insignificant moment in my life where I felt pathetic enough to cut myself. What’s funny is that I always have the intention to die until I start, and then I’m too pathetic to finish it off. I want to die, and I don’t want to wait for it to happen, but I guess I’m actually too much of a pathetic shit to finish the job.
2 comments
I read your story and I’m sorry that abuse has been a part of your childhood. I want you to know that although you feel guilty for doing things, things that cause your parents to act anrgily toward you, it really isn’t your fault. I can say that having never met you because of the circumstances you gave. Your father was perhaps abused in a similar way as a child. He may have “power” issues and asserts that power to hide from or remedy his insecurities. That doesn’t excuse what he does, however. Your parents sound unsupportive, or at the very least, misunderstanding. It’s unfortunate. I understand why you cut and why you feel like ending your life. I want you to know that although you feel guilty for it, it’s perfectly understandable for a person to feel that way if they’re in that predicament.
I’ve interviewed several people who cut. It makes you feel better, right? Did you kow that the great majority of people I’ve talked to said that they start feeling better the second that they went to go get the knife, or the piece of glass, etc?? This means that it wasn’t actually the initial act of cutting that made them feel better, it was the prospect of doing it. By cutting, you’re “punishing” yourself, while also demonstrating power and control of what happens to you. It matters that YOU were responsible for the wound and the pain. Keep that in mind and see if you can apply what I said to something that’s less harmful to you.
I would recommend that you try spending as little time home as possible. Come home to eat meals and sleep and not much else. Join an afterschool activity, meet some people, and look at home as just a place you happen to live. It’s unfortunate that it is the way it is, but you can do your best to make the most of it. Hope this helped, buddy.
your situation at home sucks, but there are other things you can do to help yourself other than baawing about it and cutting. Despite all the things going on in your life, you can still make choices. Study hard in school, make friends, make something of yourself. You’re young. You’re life has hardly even started yet. When you are older you will realize that the world is a hell of a lot bigger than your home.