This is rated PG for talking about cutting (bet you wouldn't have guessed that). There's nothing graphic, and no cussing or talks of sex.
~*~
It's weird. I know that it's bad for me, but I can't stop.
It started a few days ago; I don't know what came over me. I just saw a pointy thing and began to cut my leg. The damage was minimal, and it barely hurt to cut the skin.
On the second day, I only made one cut. I put a bandage on it and went upstairs where my mom was, hoping that she would connect the dots. She didn't.
On the third day, I spent half an hour cutting and an hour bleeding. I made about 60 cuts on my leg that day.
That day, I told my mom. I felt like I had to, and it was one of the scariest things that I've ever done.
I know that I didn't need to tell my mom. I'm not going to counseling, and she won't be able to monitor me all the time. I suppose that I felt guilty that I was keeping such a big secret from her.
So now I'm fighting an addiction. Yes, an addiction. This isn't something to let out the pain, or to make myself look cool.
I didn't know why the Hell I was cutting a while ago, but I thought about it a lot so I would understand myself better. I realized that whenever I cut, I was thinking about forgiving my dad for all that he's put me through. I made a promise that I would never forgive or trust him, because that would be giving him an opportunity to hurt me again. I figured out that when I cut myself, I was punishing myself, and reminding myself of the promise that I had made.
So now I'm crying every night, in the shower, whenever I'm alone. I hate myself, and I know that what I'm doing is wrong. So I'm doing everything in my power to keep telling myself that I want to stop; that I need to stop. And every time that I think about cutting, I feel like I'm betraying myself. Like I'm betraying everyone who loves me.
