All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
I am Not a Cutter
I'd almost made it two weeks. It was a record. But it had to end. I knew it would. I knew
there would come a night when there was nothing to stop me. And here it was. Nobody was
home. I didn't have to worry. I opened the drawer and pulled it out. A little white push pin. My
best friend for the last months, since I'd lost my last one. As I shoved the end of the pin under
the skin the shaking stopped. I pulled the pin along the crease in my hand, under the skin.
When I reached the end of the crease I yanked it out and started on the next crease. It
didn't take long before each crease in my hand was lined by pulled up skin. Others said that it
was hard when they started on new skin or on a patch of skin that was just layers and layers of
scar tissue. They thought the easiest was when it was in between. When they went over a place
that had just healed or was still healing. Personally, I didn't see it.
Each time I did it it got easier for me, whether new or thickly scarred or inbetween skin.
Each time it was easier to go deeper, to make it bleed a little more. Every time I had to go
deeper because each time it took more to feel the pain. It scared me a little bit. What if there
came a day when I was immune to the pain and I couldn't block out the feeling anymore? I didn't
want that to happen. That was why I'd slowly gone from clenching my fists and digging my nails
into my palms to carving things into my hands, wrists, and legs with a push pin. It wouldn't be
long now until I could no longer keep my barely true lie: I'm not a cutter.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 15 comments.
<3
8 articles 0 photos 3 comments
Favorite Quote:
"What the caterpillar thinks is the end of it's life, the butterfly knows is just the beginning."
This piece of writing almost made me cry.
I went through this for awhile. Sometimes it felt easier to me to deal with the physical pain, over the mental.
I've "stayed sober" since march.
I have faith in you that someday you won't ever feel the need to do this anymore.
Someday you'll be happy enough with your life and yourself, you 'll see how unsmart and unsafe this is.
God be with you.
-Hailey.