This is the story of a girl. The name of that girl is me, Brit. This is the story of how I used to cut myself. Basically, this is an overview of my feelings and what went on during the period of time that I was cutting myself. I must warn you this is a rather depressing story and may include details that give you unpleasant mental images. If you can handle this, continue reading, if not stop now and forget that you ever picked this memoir up.

It all started in the 7th grade. The first half of the school year was pretty good. But then things started to go downhill, starting with my first boyfriend dumping me. I was in my 6th period General Music class. My friend and I were passing notes to each other. There was this rumor that a boy in the class had a crush on me. His name was Christian. I'd tell you his last name, but I don't remember.

I'm not trying to be mean or anything, but the kid was actually kind of ugly. Here's what he looked like, Mexican, with extremely short hair. He was also, um, big. And anyone who ever saw him could tell you that he had a big head. I honestly feel sorry for the kid, his big head is what people always used to describe him, that and fat. He also seemed to wear almost nothing but Aeropostale.

Anyways, back to note passing. Everyone said that Christian liked me. I didn't believe them, for no boy had ever had a crush on me. I figured that wasn't about to change. I had asked my friend how much she thought Christian liked me, on a scale of one to ten. She said ten. So, as soon as the dismissal bell rang, I went up to Christian and said something like this, "Um, hey, will you go out with me?" I'm pretty sure that he thought I was joking. I mean, come on, shy, nerdy girl asks a boy out? I think not. But, I actually worked up the nerve to ask him out. He said he would think about it.

The next day was Friday. I sat through my usual classes. First period: P.E. with coach Tea. Second period: Language Arts with psycho Mrs. Orr. Third period: CTE with epic Mr. Eddy. Fourth period: my favorite class of the day, Literature with Mrs. House, my favorite teacher. Then lunch. Fifth period: Math with evil Mrs. Beddes. Finally, it was sixth period with Ms. Henke. I didn't mind General music; it was actually kind of interesting. But that day, I couldn't concentrate on anything but Christian. Throughout the day, I had only been thinking about whether or not he would say yes.

Well, as it turns out, he did say yes. I was the happiest girl on earth. I felt like, I could fly, or something like that. For the extremely short period of time that Christian and I were officially boyfriend and girlfriend, I had even stopped crushing on one of the cutest boys in school, Taylor Foutz. Taylor had short blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. He also had muscles. In other words, hottest boy ever, at least to a lovesick twelve year old girl. But, he was so popular, and I was a shy nerd. He was also at least a year older than me.

OK, enough daydreaming about cute boys, back to reality. We were doing an activity in class that required us to actually behave, something most of the class was pretty bad at. I was new to the whole girlfriend thing, so my friends were helping me out. I had told Christian to "Behave and do your work," since he was busy complaining and goofing off. When the bell rang to go to seventh period, Christian even walked me part way to Science. I thought he was really sweet and gave him my cell phone number. Big mistake, I still regret that choice to this day.

During science, I tried my hardest to concentrate, but it wasn't really working. I was doodling hearts and smiley faces all over my notebook.

The bell rang, it was finally the weekend. I texted my mom that I actually had a boyfriend. She just texted back "wow."

On Saturday, Christian and I were texting each other. Well, apparently he was hanging out with his friends. I told who I thought was Christian, "Gtg my phones dying." Well, one of his stupid friends decided to text back ,"Wait baby; don't go I have to ask you something"


"Baby will you ...?" That wasn'texactly the most appropriate text.

"Omg! No! I swear to God, if you ever say that again I will break up with you!"

That was my automatic reaction to that kind of a text. I was twelve at the time, so I didn't just dump him over the text like I would do now, and completely should have. I was pissed off at that kind of a stupid text period, so it made even more pissed to know it was one of friends' stupid idea of a joke. The reply text was from one of his other friends, a girl I actually liked, saying sorry and that it was a stupid joke from the dude friend.

On Monday, right when sixth period began, my half-friend Jackie came up to me and said, "It's over between you and Christian." I was confused and didn't believe her. She said it again, explaining that Christian had told her to tell me. Apparently Christian was too big of a jerk to tell me face to face and skipped class that day. I know he skipped because I saw him before and after seventh period in the halls.

After Jackie told me, I burst into tears. I'm pretty sure I looked stupid. I was sitting there bawling my eyes out like a little kid, with friends trying to comfort me, saying everything was going to be alright. I was crying almost the entire hour of sixth period.

During seventh period, I couldn't concentrate once again; this time for a completely different reason. I mainly pretended to concentrate and just sat there, drawing sad faces all over a piece of paper. I was absolutely miserable. I now realize that I must have seemed pretty pathetic to everyone else. Bawling and drawing sad faces over a boyfriend of three days. Yep, total loser.

The next event is my daily issues in seventh period with people annoying me to the point to where I wanted to cry, and slap someone across the face. I'm such a sweet person, aren't I? But seriously, I really did want to slap someone.

In Science it seemed like the main goal of some of the kids was just to torment me. My memories of the tormenting are kind of fuzzy, for I tend to block them out. But, I can tell you it was a mix of purposefully annoying me, being mean, and being just downright rude. The people who were annoying me were the ones who sat near me at the table. Wyatt, typical, tan "I know it all" jerk. Angelo, a white kid who acted like a Mexican , usually going on about Megan Fox's "hot a**" Lea, I'm pretty sure she's actually mostly innocent; she was just annoying because of how she was so much prettier than I was, had a boyfriend, and never shut up. And last but not least, Ben, a complete and utter jerk. That's putting it mildly. He swore so much I was beginning to think those were the only words he knew how to say. The F word was in every other sentence that came out of his mouth.

Sometimes I did break down crying. Other times, I just went silent, and threw myself into whatever I was working on. I was an A student in Science, so I refused to let my frustrations get in the way of my good grades. As far as anyone could tell, my life was completely normal. But, it wasn't. I was hiding the biggest secret of my life.

As far as normalcy goes, yeah my life at home was still the same. My mom and I got into a ton of fights. Our typical fight usually could be described more accurately as a screaming match. We were literally doing nothing but screaming at each other with many swear words in the mix. I'm pretty sure we had called each other every rude name you think of, and probably a few made up ones too.

Our constant fighting was one of the reasons I cut myself. Actually, it's one of the biggest reasons. The constant screaming on top my issues at school is what led to my eventual breakdown. I felt like I was ready to burst from all this stress build up. Finally, I did.

I remember the first time I tried to cut. At this point, I wasn't thinking about anything but how horrible I felt. I was crying. I felt hurt, angry, scared, upset, confused, depressed, lonely, and so many other things I'm not going to list. The bottom line is I was a lost girl so full of emotion, looking for a release. I didn't cut because I wanted to die; I cut because it was my release.

The first time, I didn't cut with glass like I usually did in the times after; I used some broken plastic I found in my room. I remember lying on my bed, trying desperately to get the plastic to break skin. It didn't work, but it definitely hurt. I remember after I finished I was still crying, wondering why I did it; why did I feel relieved?

The days following the cutting, I was so secretive, lost inside myself, searching for reasons. On the outside, I looked fine. Still the happy, energetic, friendly girl everyone knew. But on the inside, I was lost and hurt, dying for someone to see through my facade. All I wanted was for someone to just know I wasn't Ok; I wanted one of my friends to come up and give me a hug. Just to hold me, tell me everything would be alright. I just needed someone that I could trust, someone to talk to. I needed love. Was that too much to ask?

At home, I was sick and tired of fighting. But, no matter how much I hated the fights; there was always something to start a fight over, whether it was something as stupid as how the living room was a mess, or just someone having a bad day. I was absolutely miserable. If you walked into my house, I swear, you could probably feel the tension.

With all this fighting going on, of course I was going to have built up emotions, just waiting to be released. Thinking back, even now I can't explain how calm I felt. It was like I was a stranger in my own body, somehow remaining calm as this strange girl cut deep into her skin, watching as the life bled out from her wrist. All those emotions I had felt the first time were gone, replaced by this eerie calm. It was as if the emotion was the blood flowing from my wrist. I could feel the pain, yes. But my mind wasn't focusing on it. My focus was wanting someone to care, to see what I was doing, and stop me.

After I finished cutting, I was starting to get concerned as to why my wrist refused to stop bleeding. Perhaps it was an act of rebellion from my body as some form of revenge for hurting it. I also felt guilty. I had betrayed my best friend. She had told me that my life meant to the moon and back; how could I go and cut myself without feeling guilty? Christen was the most amazing friend you could have, of course I'm going to feel guilty over cutting; she loved me and wouldn't want me to cut. She had started crying when I told her I cut myself, how could I go and cut without feeling guilty?

After guilt, I just put on a black hoodie and started reading, acting as if nothing had ever happened. I came upstairs probably about a half hour later, still wearing my hoodie to hide the marks on my wrist. I just told my mom I was cold. Life went on normally.

The next day was finally Friday. I was in a good mood, so I decided to curl my hair, do some makeup, and dress a little nicer. I was wearing a light pink button up shirt and nice jeans. The shirt had short sleeves, so my scars were showing. I didn't think anyone would notice them, for no one has said anything yet. I was wrong.

I was having a great day, feeling amazing, until seventh period. Ben, who I've already mentioned, decided to say something about the marks on my wrist. I didn't want to talk about it, of course. So I said so. This is our conversation:

"Do you cut yourself?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

" I just asked if you cut yourself or not."

" I don't want to talk about it."

He kept pressing. I broke down crying. I also attracted the entire classrooms attention, the last thing I wanted. These events led up to a visit with the counselor, but I won't bother with those details. Instead, I will tell you the words Ben forever burned into my mind.

"I'm just saying, if the b**** is going to cut herself, she might as well kill herself."