Status: One-Shot
Different.
Chapter One.
What makes you so different?
I asked myself that question tens of times, the most often when I would stare at him during class.
He would make it obvious he was in pain, but no one noticed.
He’d pull up his sleeve, revealing the cuts, the slits.
It doesn’t work.
I wanted to tell him to stop; tell him that cutting wasn’t the way to do things... but why did I never tell myself that?
I’ve been cutting for years, ever since I can remember.
People notice. I’m just a really good liar. I wear a mask full of happiness.
He thought we had so much in common. He also said to me “I wish I could be just like you.”
No you don’t.
The pain is sometimes too much to bare, the yelling gives me headaches, the cutting makes me numb.
This isn’t life, this is a nightmare.
I fake a smile for the teachers, he never tried to fake it.
He wanted people to see what his condition was. He thought that no one cared.
I told him the students noticed, they talked about it behind his back. Eventually someone who could do something about it would notice too.
I warned him too late. The same day I told him, was the same day a teacher confronted him.
I was scared that he would get pushed over the edge, no one else knew what was going on at home with him. He was such a wreck.
I wasn’t any better though.
How come no one would talk to me about my problems? No one would talk to me about my cuts? I’ve been through so much more shit than he has.
He just wants the attention.
I feel as if I wasn’t good enough, he wouldn’t listen to me when I told him how much I cared about him. I eventually gave up.
His pain was causing me pain. I couldn’t take it anymore.
I wanted nothing to do with him.
We both lost respect for each other.
I’m surrounded by people that are too busy to notice when I’m waving my bloody wrists in their faces.
I don’t feel the need for attention like he does. Even when I gave him my everything, (he used to be my everything) it still wasn’t enough for him.
What makes you so different?
I’m not wanting to be the center of attention. I don’t need people to tell me that they feel sorry for me to know that I’m loved, to know that people care about me. I don’t want to be someone else, I want to be myself. I can’t be true to someone else if I’m not even true to myself.
I wish he’d learn that he is loved, that he does have friends.
I used to care. I keep telling myself that I don’t care about him anymore, but I know that’s a lie.
I made so many mistakes with him. Too many to count.
He never even knew me.
When I told him something about me, I would soon learn that we had that thing in common.
The abuse, the cutting, the feeling of emptiness.
I’m starting to realize that he would only tell those things to me, and when he did tell those things, it helped him to talk about it.
Did me cutting him off make it so he’s even more alone?
Will he tell anyone else the things he’s told me?
I now realize that I may have made a very serious mistake.
But now I guess I have to move on, I know that once, if I ever do, go back to him the pain will just come back.
I asked myself that question tens of times, the most often when I would stare at him during class.
He would make it obvious he was in pain, but no one noticed.
He’d pull up his sleeve, revealing the cuts, the slits.
It doesn’t work.
I wanted to tell him to stop; tell him that cutting wasn’t the way to do things... but why did I never tell myself that?
I’ve been cutting for years, ever since I can remember.
People notice. I’m just a really good liar. I wear a mask full of happiness.
He thought we had so much in common. He also said to me “I wish I could be just like you.”
No you don’t.
The pain is sometimes too much to bare, the yelling gives me headaches, the cutting makes me numb.
This isn’t life, this is a nightmare.
I fake a smile for the teachers, he never tried to fake it.
He wanted people to see what his condition was. He thought that no one cared.
I told him the students noticed, they talked about it behind his back. Eventually someone who could do something about it would notice too.
I warned him too late. The same day I told him, was the same day a teacher confronted him.
I was scared that he would get pushed over the edge, no one else knew what was going on at home with him. He was such a wreck.
I wasn’t any better though.
How come no one would talk to me about my problems? No one would talk to me about my cuts? I’ve been through so much more shit than he has.
He just wants the attention.
I feel as if I wasn’t good enough, he wouldn’t listen to me when I told him how much I cared about him. I eventually gave up.
His pain was causing me pain. I couldn’t take it anymore.
I wanted nothing to do with him.
We both lost respect for each other.
I’m surrounded by people that are too busy to notice when I’m waving my bloody wrists in their faces.
I don’t feel the need for attention like he does. Even when I gave him my everything, (he used to be my everything) it still wasn’t enough for him.
What makes you so different?
I’m not wanting to be the center of attention. I don’t need people to tell me that they feel sorry for me to know that I’m loved, to know that people care about me. I don’t want to be someone else, I want to be myself. I can’t be true to someone else if I’m not even true to myself.
I wish he’d learn that he is loved, that he does have friends.
I used to care. I keep telling myself that I don’t care about him anymore, but I know that’s a lie.
I made so many mistakes with him. Too many to count.
He never even knew me.
When I told him something about me, I would soon learn that we had that thing in common.
The abuse, the cutting, the feeling of emptiness.
I’m starting to realize that he would only tell those things to me, and when he did tell those things, it helped him to talk about it.
Did me cutting him off make it so he’s even more alone?
Will he tell anyone else the things he’s told me?
I now realize that I may have made a very serious mistake.
But now I guess I have to move on, I know that once, if I ever do, go back to him the pain will just come back.