Cutting: Explanation Welcomed

“Why did you cut in past, Jessica?” Some people would ask me whenever they’ve realized that I’ve done it, or they were really curious. Well, honestly.. Not to the barer of bad news or anything but it was because I was a pussy; a little wimp that had nothing better to do than cry and cut all day.

No, I didn’t do it because of the fact that everyone else did it but because of the fact that the scars that were left were a reminder of how horribly disgusting my life used to be, and always will be. But all it did for the ones that cared and loved for me was disgust them and make them worry. It made some of my friends not even talk to me, whenever I thought I needed them the most.

I was sent away to a place called Brentwood. It’s a hospital for people who have addictions, anger problems, diseases, or had the choice; jail or Brentwood.

I learned that whenever people cut the veins on their wrist, it send out a chemical in your brain that makes it feel good; makes the pain worth the while. I also learned that it wasn’t the way to do things. It wasn’t the way to make do.

Whenever that chemical was flowing through my mind for the last time, making me love the feeling of the blade sliding across my skin, making puncture wounds so the blood could leak out into the open, filling the air with the smell of old rust and metal, I realized that it wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth taking the time to hide the cuts, or hide my blade in my jewelry box that no one ever opened, or even take the time to sit down, put on the same ‘ol depressing song, grabbing the blade and just getting over it.

What is worth the time is going around to people, smiling at them and making sure they were okay; whenever they had a reason not to be.

But whenever people cut nowadays, it’s usually because it’s the latest trend, or the newest hobby, or people just really feel the need to find a way to control the pain for once.

But all of this is just my opinion, and if someone were to come up to me and ask me how to become a ‘emo’, I’d show them the way and let them go through what I went through; going away from my family for a long time, and only seeing them thirty minutes a day and letting them worry as I laid in the cold, springy bed that had hard pillows, crying myself to sleep at night.

Is it really worth cutting yourself over? Think of that the next time you pick up your razorblade.