How does it feel?

Dear Corinne,

You had no idea what it would bring. Nothing has gone right for a while and your starting to lose hope. The fact that you confided in someone your deepest, most gut wrenching secret and now he’s telling people like it’s nothing. Like you’re nothing. You swear you didn't mean to tell them. You were angy and upset. They were going to ditch you like they always would.

You know how full of hatred he is. You know how much of a jerk he is. That’s why you ran. You left. For your own good. Your parents were behind you, but now you can’t tell them about him bullying you. Because they can’t find out, no matter what happens. You’d always planned to tell them years from now. When you were finally an adult and helping those who were in your shoes. But now? It can’t be now!

You know that people would call you a myriad of names. Emo, depressed, suicidal, crazy, attention whore, outcast, freak. You don’t see that at all. You don’t want to be labeled as anything but yourself. You don’t want to be “certifiably insane”. You want to be you.

The truth is, your not looking for attention, your not emo, you’re not depressed, you’re not suicidal, you’re not crazy. You did what you did all those years because you thought you deserved it. You deserved every blow, every bruise, every cut, every scar, every mark. All the pain that you had put yourself through, mentally and physically, you did that to yourself because you thoughy you deserved it.

You weren’t good enough for the world. You weren’t good enough to hang out with some people. You weren’t good enough to be kindly referred to. You weren’t as good as “some people”. You weren’t good enough to do this or that.

Ever since you were a child in elementary school you’ve hurt yourself. You didn’t know why. You could easily hide it, seeing as you were always “happy” and very clumsy. You could pass a bruise here and a scar there as no big deal. And everyone, including yourself, believed you.

“You are the abuser and the victim.”

It had taken me years to cope. I’d hit myself, claw myself, scratch myself when I was younger. It was only until I hit high school that I “graduated” to the cutting.

I didn’t think it was going to affect my life like THIS. I thought I was in control. No big deal. I don’t see why people would turn to this.

A few weeks later…

It’s okay. I’m okay. I can control this. This isn’t so bad. I mean, I acted like such an idiot today, I deserve my punishment. At least I’m the one doing this..

Months and months later…

Oh God, please help me! What am I doing? I can’t stop. My skin is completely red. I don’t know what to do? Please! Someone, help me!!

More time went by…

As you lye motionless on the floor of your closet, you slowly reach for the doorknob to set yourself free from your personal cage. You crawl out, but fall flat on the floor once again. You’re exhausted, completely numb. You cried, not much. You glance down at your skin to see the words “Idiot” and “Pig” written on yourself in scars. You traced the sore, red lines, relieving the time you made them.
In your head, the thoughts and memories of every time someone hurt you, every time someone called you fat or ugly, the words replay over and over and over and over and over and over…..

And over…

Please, God, let it end! I can’t do this anymore! Please!

You’re still holding whatever you used to make those cuts. You clench your numbing fist around it and force yourself not to do it again.

But you do.

And you keep doing it..

Months later…

“I have a dream. What if I could help someone else, therefore helping myself? What if I would write everything down for the future. What if this was my way out?”

You purchase a red and black journal. You’re going to use this to tell your story…

It has been six months since you last hurt yourself in any way. For the first time in your entire life, you’re truly proud of yourself. You have overcome and addiction. It had taken over your life without you realizing it. You’re free…

Not quite…

Why did he do it? Because I didn’t want to hang out with him anymore because he cussed me out and showed up at my house at 10:30 am to hurt me again? Oops, sorry. My dumb-ass mistake.

You know he’s full of hate. Ever since you left, he’s been constantly trying to talk to you, stop you, convince you to come back. But you know that you don’t want to go back . You don’t want to go through it again and again. You don’t want to not see the friends you’ve had since you were small. But he keeps it up. Again and again and again….

You don’t give in.

In his words…

“You’re humiliation starts soon enough.”

You suppose that calling you a bitch, a virus, saying that no one would accept you like they did, no one would ever love you that much, wasn’t enough. Now he has to go and tell the world the one thing you had tried to hide for your entire life.

Always tormenting you. Always harassing you. You pray and pray and pray for him to leave you alone. You can’t tell anyone because they can’t find out. Especially your parents, especially your friends. Those people who you’d never want to hurt. You can’t have them knowing.

But the world keeps spinning…

And so does your head.

You don't dare hurt yourself again. You can't lose what you've worked for for so long. You can't let everyone down. You can't let yourself down.

How does it feel?

You hope, you pray, you beg for it all to stop as soon as possible. For now, all you can do is wait.

I'm sorry for not telling you, Kari. I hope you know how much I love you. How much I care about you. I just couldn't tell the people who mattered most to me. One of those people was you. I hope you know that I'm here for you. Even if I seem to drift. I'm always listening.
I love you always <3333