I know it was unexpected when I tore my own life from the world. I never seemed the type to be depressed and suicidal, did I? I'm sorry that it had to end this way.

I need to tell you everything – from the beginning. I've hidden a lot from you over the years, and I want to come clean. I'm sorry that you had to find out this way. I'm sorry.

It all started when I was eleven years old. I read an article in a magazine about a girl who cut herself because she was stressed out and couldn't cope. I started feeling this stress pile up, and before I knew it, I was cutting myself, too. I would sit in the bathroom with my Swiss Army knife and barely even touch my legs, although I would leave a scratch mark. I started carving patterns into my legs.

When I built up the courage to tell one of my friends about what I was doing to myself, she betrayed my trust. I never forgave her for that. I stopped for a while after that because I knew I might be found out.

But I started again. I couldn't stop. The stress came back, and to tell the truth, I liked the stinging sensation I felt every time I tore my own skin open.

Everything kept building up. I always seemed the happy child, didn't I? I'd changed, Mom, but you never noticed. You never noticed how I changed. I was becoming paranoid and misanthropic, and you never took notice to anything that was happening.

That day I came home sick from school with a temperature of 102°… that wasn't any ordinary fever. That was a stress fever. I was so stressed I was getting sick from it. I don't get sick. I got so stressed out from everything that my temperature escalated and I got pale and flushed…

And it all ended right here. I just got sick of everything, you know? I couldn't trust anyone anymore. I was afraid to tell people about this stuff. So… I just finished up where I had left off. I was never the ordinary one. I never followed the rules. When you hear that "cutters aren't suicidal", don't believe it. I was a cutter. I took my own life. I had been slowly building up to it. Finally, I just got sick of everything and slashed every part of my body I could. It's gruesome and crude, I know, but I'm not the ordinary child.


A few notes from the (hopelessly doomed) author:

No, I'm not suicidal… this is kind of an experiment. I'm trying to improve my writing skills, as I realize I am hopelessly bad right now, so just tell me what you think of this new pathetic attempt at writing.

Reviews are always appreciated, just don't flame, cuz I'm a pyro, and you know what happens when pyros and fire mix… evilgrin

Thanks for reading.