3 of 12

Write now Article Tools

To cry is to make me feel good, but to cut is to make me feel better. Yes I admit at one point in my life I use to cut myself quite often when I was deeply upset about something. It all started when I was in seventh grade. I was outside talking with one of my friends and she had just finished breaking a coke can in half. I looked at the sharp edge, never had I ever felt the need to cut before that moment but once I saw the beauty of it gleam in the sunlight my mind left me and what took place was pure emotion. I took the can from my friend and without thinking I placed it to my wrist, pushed down hard and dragged it across. It was incredible, I didn't feel the pain that was swarming in my head just a few minutes before. I didn't feel the stress of school, friends, or relationships. In some way you could describe I was "free" and I had never felt better. After that day everything went downhill, I started doing it more often, thinking cutting was the only way to make me feel good. When someone laughed at me, I cut. When I felt like I was nothing(which was most of the time) I cut. When I felt alone, I picked up a blade and cut. I used various items over the years such as a blade, aluminum cans, guitar strings, thorns, paper clips, glass, etc. My friends knew exactly what I was doing, of course they were upset. Whenever they saw a new addition they'd grab my arm and make me look at it, then slap it so the pain would worsen. I never saw the point of it, if anything it made me feel the need to do it again. I was miserable and later in my eighth grade year my mother found out about them, she told me to stop and I told her I would. I avoided it for awhile but just a few weeks later something occurred that made me start all over again. I must explain, I don't want to kill myself, I've never even thought of it. I enjoy living life but sometimes I have to handle things in my own way. I never cut deep enough to leave any scars it made it easier to hide what I was doing. At first I began on my arm around my wrist, then I moved to my upper arm where I could lift up my sleeves to my elbows and still be able to hide the truth. Next I moved to my shoulder where things were even easier, then my thighs, life was perfect. Then one day this year I realized I needed help, I needed to fix my life for the better. Depression was making my life dark, blinding me from the things I missed most. I picked up new hobbies and interests that kept me happy, no longer did I need to harm myself. The reasons why I would cut was because I felt worthless, like I couldn't accomplish anything and if I did, it was never good enough. I am a lot happier now, though I do have urges every once in awhile to do it again and I admit at times I do give in. Though I am still on a long journey I'm sure in do time I will be able to free myself from this burden. I hope in some way this helped somebody out there who is like me and who can realize there is still people struggling to stop. One of these days I want to help someone with the same problem, and say to them "I use to be like you."

Learn more about this author, Jovana Von Kolb.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

Add your voice

Know something about Testimonies: Self-injury?
We want to hear your view. Write now!