When I was 12

I cut for the frist time I used this little
sharp thing that came in this manicure set
I don't know why I did it but I can remember
my hand hanging over the bathroom sink little drips of blood falling from me I staired in to space I can still feel that dead feeling
Latter that year I cut in front of my friend I did not think she was looking, she **** my hand and " oh my god, dude did you just make that happen?" I should be I shamed I would be now, but then I think I may have been proud, it got worst I cut everyday
mostly my hands. One day my older brother
asked what happen to my hands I said his cat had scratch me
a really bad lie cuz rocko would never hurt a fly,
and he new cuz he told my mom right there and then
Ma, I think she's cuting herself, I was so panic that I don't even remember what she said, but I did not stop
mouths later I think it was in Jan of 2001
I was at my sisters house and I must have had a scrach or scar showing
I reamber what she said, my hand are shaking tyeping it,
"Why are you cutting you're self little *******!, you know that bring the devil he likes that!, little did I know those would be that last words she ever said to me cuz she died in feb that same year
and know it's crazy but part of me will allways blame me and my cutting,
and i still think of her when I cut, I don't have to tell you that did not stop me,

whene I was 13

I don't think I cut much wich is do odd cuz it was the worst time in my life, insted I dressed like a ****, got drunk, talk back to my famliy and messed aroung with grown up guys,  and started writeing poetry
but I never cut.

Whene I was 14

god that was I really bad bad time I'm pretty shore I was crazy
I was convosed about my sexuality and gender,
i shaved my head started dressing as crazy as possibal maybe get ppl to look at me, maybe to scare them away I don't know.
but I cut, I cut I LOT! I can remember locking myself in the basement with my KORN and SLIPKNOT CDs turned up so load no one can hear my cry, I craved an anarcy symble in my lag, and fell asleep on the liveing room couch, my mom saw it and freaked out, she asked me if I was crazy?, gay?, if it hurt?, all I did was turn over and go back to sleep.

When I was 15

everyone just knew I was crazy, I cut be with the head to toe black
dog colers and books on the cruch of Satan no one really nodest, but I knew, it was takeing over my life, I had so meny cut on my arms that
ther was not a part of my skin that was not scabed red or swollen
but I did not stop.

When I was 16

I lot of things about me chanched at 16
but it was hard to say what they where
i remember one day I staired in the mirror so long
I could not stand mr face and more I was enraged
I was allwas sad, but now it was anger I did not want to see
any part of me or my life any more a hated it all so much
I tryed to blind me self, with narr hair remover, I put in to my eyes
it was the worst pain I ever felth, and when everything started to look gray I was scard and for the frist time sents my sisters death
I prayed to god not elfs or the vampire ruler
but god, and it stop the bruning the grayness stoped
and from that the I never said I did not believe in god, you can call me crazy, but I think I should'ev been blind.
but I never stoped cutting,
just mouths layer in the summer I can remember
being dressed like a latex dominatress, I craved the word nothing in my hand that word ment a lot to me it was my seventh name
I never thoght anyone nodest but when I came home one day
2 of my 3 brothers and my mom where waiting like an intervention
they asked me why?, what does it mean?, my father asked if I " really worship the devil?" I just said I do it cuz I'm crazy and never said anouther word,  but I did not stop cutting.

When I was 17

my life was sleep cutting and poetry and nothing more,
I lived in razor blades and notbooks, I can remember one day I had 2 cuts on my arm my uper arm, but I must have forgot cuz I did not
where a swater to the dinner table, my brother the same brother
that nodest when I was 12 got up in a rage and went in to the ketchen with my mom and was yelling at her " did you see the cuts?, did you see thies ******* cuts, he did not think I heard no one did but that mead my cry so hard, I'm and will allways protective of my mom, I hated that she was getting yelled at for something I did, but than she starting blameing everyone but me, I craved a heart in to my hand and she went if in my neice say "did you see her do this?"
now my cuting was everyone pain
but I did not stop

when I was 18

I did not cut as much but whene I did it was bad
I used broken glass it was my favoret, and I cut placeing
that never showed, when I  was dressed,
and I looked normle just like anyone els
nothing dark of freaky about me but if you saw me
naked I was a masacare
and I did not stop.

When I was 19

I had a hole deffrent feeling like nothing I did
was good enough, I'm not like everyone els my
age, I allwas had this thing where when ever u was outside
and someone laughed I thought it was about me
if they looked at me it was cuz I'm ugly
or just a freak, at this time it was worst
cuz I realize not much has chanched in my life.
I got my shoulder once I was one my computer
and my dad asked what happend I said I got cut when I was
moving things in my room all he said oh I thought
you where doing something weird, talk about being the last to know.

When I was 20

I only cut twice that year, And my mom seemed to think about it more that me but in a defforent way "what are you gunna do with those scars?"
shed allways say, still does no mans gonna wanna marry someone with
unexplainable scars on her body, I allways found that shallow
and cold but I did not completly stop cuting.

When I was 21

I had an inter deffrent soul or at lest a new mask
in lost wight, trund blond, for the longest time replaced
poetry with make up, try to perfect most ppl thought I was
even me, I was bublelie that girl who laughed really loud
with butterflys in my bedroom and boys on my cell phone
mirrors and make up, it kinda the new obession cuz I can feel it taken over, and no one knows it  they will never guess it
but I did not stop cuting

now i'm 22 years olds

sometimes I feel so fake I wanna scream,
I don't reconize me anymore, but I never like me anyway
I can't understand how I can want those feeling back?
I mead so long, how can I just stop?
Cuting is part of me, as much as I want it gone
then why did cry so much, more then the blood
why do I feel so worthless saying
I did not stop cutting...

You know, its kinda funny how things go downhill so fast, when i was there, i couldn't say i was happy or the things are working, but i could say that at least i was close to you, time passed and this felling started to suffocate me, so i decide to move on. And now all of my days just turned gray, an endless sky of gray and shivering cold, day pass and all i do is smoke and stay in bed, all i do is remenber my time close to you, all i fell i sadness consuming my body, haunting my mind, suffocating my lungs, and now, all i do is think about you

The thrill of  cuting through the fall breeze
The smell of a new parking lot
everything around you is to your use
But then..

there's the fall,

The scrapes,

The bleeding.

The passion and love you have for it can never hurt
Just keep on riding.

Please take time to read this <3

Few people know that I have come close to ending my own life, at least 4 times. At the time that is what I wanted, to die. Mostly because I thought it would take Away the pain and suffering I felt. I never fit in, kids at school would find any reason to make fun of me. When I was eight years old my sister and I were sent to a foster home. I was told on many occasions that my father wanted nothing to do with me. So I became depressed and lived by a label known as emo. One night I felt extremely depressed and I took a razor blade to my wrist. I watched as the blood ran out of the wound I had made and at that moment I realized I was addicted. Not only to cuting but to the feeling I got when I saw my blood. I knew I had a problem, I would cut every night just so I could feel something I could control and that I knew was real. My friends in middle school saw the cuts and tried to get me help but it only made it worse. I was put into therapy but that doesn't help unless you talk, in which I didn't. I didn't feel safe. The foster home my sister and I were living in was not a very good one. The guy was a creep. So we were forced out of that home and got adopted by my uncle. We tried many councilors and therapists but nothing seemed to help.
I eventually got an 18 year old boyfriend and I was only 15. He got me drunk one night and took advantage of me. He stole my innocence, and gave me something else in return. A baby. But that baby died. Know matter how much it hurts I know that baby is better off with out me. I was so young.
To this day, I still think about hurting myself but I am proud. I have gone a little over 4 months with out self harm, and with every day I grow stronger and stronger. So to those who took the time to read this, thank you. And if you are going through the same struggles, find a clear path and stay on it. Doesn't matter if you're an alcoholic, or a druggy, or even a *** addict. The only way to get better is through steps. Start with a week and slowly move up. I believe in you. Every single one.

Taunting bones

poke through thinly stretched skin

bruising flesh like dropped apples

You sliced your finger-tip off

in the process of

cuting out the

core

i dreamt my eyes reflected your pain,
and turned it into lust.
i dreamt i no longer had to water my art with tears, for your soul flooded me with passion,
siezing the last bit of sanity your lips hadn't consumed.
i dreamt of your papery skin cuting through me, begging for my blood to write love songs on your edges.
i dreamt of you.
and i couldn't help but curse reality when i woke up,
because no matter how hard i shut my eyes,
you,
disolved in my pillow,
like the memory of happiness.

Riding on the tailgate of the pickup dragging a stick cuting grooves in the dirt road
Jumping off the tailgate running behind the truck then jumping back on
Walking through the dry creek bed looking for rocks
Splashing in mud puddels
Finding turtles under haybails
Just walking through the field exploring


I could go on and on
Childhood in the country
Is the best childhood to have