I deserve the pain

by Jolie

My first time was in 7th grade. I was home alone a lot because my mom was having an affair with her married boss and would stay at work till midnight almost every single night. I was angry because I felt so worthless, even my own mother put me second, as she always does. Her boss was always first. Since the devorce it had just been her and me living together. "you and me against the world" she used to say. it was never her and i, it was her and her boss. and one night, it was 1 in the morning, and she still wasnt home. when i saw what time it was, i couldnt control myself... i went upstairs, grabbed a kitchen knife, and slashed my right arm. the cut was really deep and left a huge gash... there was so much blood. at first, all i could do was stand there and stare at it. then i called my mom and said i had an accident while putting away dishes, and she needed to come home right away. when she came, she took me to the e.r and i had stitches. a few weeks later, i did it again. the pain was such a relief, and it felt like my only escape. a year later, in 8th grade, my sister and her boyfriend moved in with us, and the stress and anger and depression kept piling on. i was cutting at least twice a month. my mom found out about it, and flipped. she wouldnt speak to me for weeks. one day i came to her and said that what she was doing wasnt helping me at all. as time went on, things got better, and i stopped for a bit. but school kept getting rougher and rougher... and i had to get a release...so i would use a scalple my mom would use for stuff on her feel (i washed it before i used it then hid it). my friends started to ask why i would always wear a hoodie no matter where we were, and one day, the saw the cuts on my arms, and demanded to see the rest. i showed them the ones one my hips, my right arm, my ancles, my palms, and on the bottom of my right foot. at first they were worried, but after awhile they ignored it completly, and i started again.. not to get their attention, but because without their support, i had nothing else. when one of my friends saw i was doing it again, she told me i just wanted attention, and that she didnt want to even be around me.. she looked at me then said "all you are, is a cutter, and a slut". after that... i just wanted to kill myself. when i got home, i went to the kitchen, pulled out a knife, and held it to my throat. with my arm shaking i stood there for three hours trying to will myself to end it all... but i just couldnt do it. i still dont know why i couldnt, and even now, i still want to. im a sophomore now, and i still cut, just not as much.. i cant count all the times i have cut since the 7th grade, its been such a long time... and i still cant stop, my boyfriend begs me to, but now i just stopped telling him when i do, even tho i promised id tell him every time. i cut my palms mostly, because they heal fast and dont leave scars so now there is no evidence. i want to stop, but i just cant.... i deserve the pain, and i deserve to die... beside my bed, i have 25 hydrocodone pills in a little box, and one day.. i may have been pushed enough to take them.