Pain Is Where the Heart Is

Only one of my scars actually shows. The rest have disappeared, to my great dislike. But I can still remember each one. There was one on my wrist, three on my chest, thirty-one on my legs, two on my hips, and millions on my heart. I can tell you exactly what each one looked like. I can tell you where each one was, what each one was done with. I've used a butcher's knife, a pocket knife, a razor blade, and, more commonly, scissors.

__________

I've tried to commit suicide several times. I've lied about it continuously, telling people I am, or have tried, to commit suicide. The first time I lied about this was after an argument with my friend Ben in sixth grade. I told him "you better say your goodbyes now because you're never gonna see me again."

I can tell you, if I could figure out how to get the screen off the upstairs bathroom window, I wouldn't be here writing this. I was so set on dying, so set on not having to suffer through moving, that I was set on dying. To make up for it, I grabbed my iPod and turned on Famous Last Words by My Chemical Romance. This was the first, but not the last, time My Chemical Romance held no refuge for me. So I turned my iPod on shuffle and the first song that came on was When I Go Out, I Want To Go Out On A Chariot Of Fire by Escape the Fate. The tragic lyrics in that song held me at bay until I was sure I could face Ben again.

But the first time I seriously thought about commiting suicide was in my seventh grade year. I had wrote Ben a note that called my friends Brandi, Allie, and Kaitlyn annoying. Stupidly, I had given it to Amber and told her not to read it. She did anyway and shared her findings with everyone else. The only reason I did this was because so much was crashing down on my head. My boyfriend broke up with me, I lost a $40 necklace at Allie's, Kaitlyn got nailpolish on my favorite books, and my dad and I were always fighting.

So when I got to school, they ignored me. I followed Allie and Kaitlyn around in gym, but they would glare and me and try to get away. They wouldn't group up with me for pushups and they wouldn't sit anywhere near me in computers. I wrote Kaitlyn a note, asking her if and why she was mad at me. She proceeded to tell me that it was because I called them annoying and that I was a liar. She said my mom wasn't as mean as I made her out to be, she said my uncle never tried to strangle my dad. As if that wasn't it, when I told her 'Okay, I was just wondering. I know what I did and I can understand why you're mad," she told me that I was just searching for attention like I usually did. Like I always did.

So I asked another old friend, Andrea, if I could sit by her at lunch. She agreed and I sat by her and her friends. I burst out bawling right there at the table, but hid my tears when Allie and Kaitlyn came in, glaring at me.

When I got home, I grabbed my iPod and left. It was a cold day, but not cold enough to freeze me to death. As I walked, I thought of more ways to kill myself. I couldn't drown myself in the river, it was frozen and dried up from winter. I couldn't shoot myself, we didn't own a gun. I couldn't burn myself, I might not die and then just have to suffer more. I didn't want to overdose, I could end up in the hospital and we didn't have enough pills for that. I didn't have a rope to hang myself and I'm sure my dad would find me as I was making the noose.

So I settled on laying down on the railroad tracks, waiting for the train that sometimes never came. I didn't want to just lay there for a long time, so I wandered around and waited for it to come. That plan was spoiled, though. My dad and brother came to see where I'd been for the past three hours.

Since that day, suicide attempts haven't been so taboo. I think about suicide once a day because I think about it from the time I wake up until the time I go to bed. I've tried overdosing hundreds of times and have only wound up sick.

After a while, I wanted to find the most artistic, most tragic way to die. I wanted to go out with a bang. On Halloween, I had planned to kill myself if I couldn't go trick-or-treating with my friend Allie. It sounds stupid and childish, but I wanted to prove my point. It was supposed to make my dad realize that I wanted to be free from his tight rein over my life. It was supposed to prove to parents around the town to let their kids decide what was best for them, not the parents.

I was going to make a noose and hang myself from the tree in my front yard. But that wasn't it. I was going to be fully equipped in a Halloween costume and makeup to match. I wanted to be the most intricate, realistic decoration out there. I did get to go with Allie, though, and I didn't hang myself.

__________

I get frustrated, angry, and straight up pissed off when people try to tell me that they're going to kill themself after a breakup from their partner or that they're going to kill themself but have no justification.

You don't know 'suicidal' until you've spent two hours sniveling on the floor in a curled up ball, fighting inwardly with yourself not to slit your throat with the serrated knife you're clutching in your shaking hands.

Most of the time, I can't remember what triggers my mental meltdowns, but the ones I do remember all seem different to me.

Last summer, I went to my mom's in Texas for the first time. I was alone a lot of the time and spent all of the summer talking to my friends or writing. At one point, I was talking to my friend Amber. she said something about me not being a good friend. This shocked me. I started shaking and every thought became irrational. I wanted desperately to get up and get the knife from my bedroom. I replied to her through my sobs, acting as smart-ass as possible. Dear and the Headlights blasted through the speakers, masking my sniffs.

The next time was a few months later, in October. My most recent boyfriend had broken up with me and I was spending every weekend with my dad at his girlfriend's house. She had a stepson from her last marraige who began coming over. I thought he was cute and funny. His name was Derek. After that weekend was over, I was sad. He came back the next weekend. At four in the morning, he asked me to come down and lay with him on his air mattress. I complied. Eventually he asked me to make out with him. I knew he wanted more than just making out and I had thought that I was ready to give him that. The fact that he was three years older than me was cast away. But we didn't get very far. I started shaking and sweating. My heartbeat seemed to increase ten fold and became very irregular, I couldn't breathe correctly, and my mouth was dry. He left early that morning and we haven't talked since.

The most recent one I can remember was just before Christmas. I hate Christmas with an undying passion. It's never been the same for me since my parents got divorced and I've spend every Christmas since crying. When my dad's girlfriend crammed me in the car with four other people, I immediately got pissed off. I turned on my iPod and glared at anyone who told me to turn it down. We were going to see some Christmas light show. As the lights flickered and shone to the beat of the Christmas music, I started crying bitterly. Nobody noticed, not even when they threatened to break my iPod if I didn't turn it down. My dad decided to have a 'talk' with me once we got home, but he chose to take that time to tell me how I was turning into a cold-hearted bitch like my mother. I took a pair of scissors and carved "FUCKED UP" into my leg. To this day, every time I have a panic attack, I carve that over the healing scar.