1111111111 YES, I'M A CUTTER
Rating: PG-13
Quality: (Quality: Unrated)
To start off, I'm 14 years old and my name is Cameran . I'm a pretty average teen. I have a lot of great friends-- some who aren't the best influence-- but that's not the point. It all started when I was 13 and I was at my friend Cara's house. She was telling me how our other friends Amanda and Emily were carving crosses in their arms with safety pins. They'd put the sfatey pin in their wrist and pul it out, making a cross. But don't get the wrong impression-- I'm not gothic or anything. Im actually a huge prep. I love pink, and I'm the biggest blonde ever. But anyways, since Cara was doing it- I wanted to do it too. But I'm scared to death of needles so I kept scraping a screwdriver against my arm until it made a visible line. At first it stung, but it really didn't hurt-- I became numb to it. When I got home-- my little sister saw it and told my parents. They were weired out and pis s ed. They told me not to do it anymore. And that's when I saw what I thought was the oppurtunity that I couldn't pass up.
After that, every time my parents-- especially my dad pis sed me off to the point were I was so mad I'd cry, I'd cut myself. I didn't do it woth a knife though. I found a little plastic star from my craft box that had really pointy ends. I'd just scrap it against my left arm untill I could see blood come through. It was weird. It was like all my pain form being so mad just escaped into the cut-- which at the time didn't even hurt. Yah, a couple of days after I did it my arm hurt, but in a freaky way-- I almmost liked it-- It relieved me.
And after time and time of doing it over and over again, the cuts would get bigger and deeper-- though I never did it with a knife. People started to notice it and I'd just lie and make up dumb excuses I know they didn't believe. Eventually, my mom found out. She was so skocked-- She felt like she had failed as a mom. I wanted to stop, but by that time, I'd become addicted to it. My whole arm was scarred up. It was horrible. I wanted out,but it was like water-- I needed it.
In the end-- my mom threatened to take me to the hospital, and my friends found out and have tried to help. There have been tv shows, espeically Degrassi and Real World, who have helped me come to the fact that I am indeed a 'cutter'. But ultimatley, it's my decision to stop.
I havn't done it in a long time, but I will admit to this day, I do still cut. As much as I want to stop and as much as I hate to say this-- I'm a cutter and I have a mental illness. But don't be fooled, I don't want to die or anything, it's just my way to cope with things. Some people smoke, some write music, and some go exercie, but I cut. And just because I cut- I still have blasts of fun, and have a great life. So I guess the reason I wrote this is beacuse I not only wanted to tell my story, I wanted to make people aware that people who cut aren't freaks, gothic, or suicidal. I'm a preppy fun girl-- I just have a problem with dealing with my problems.
I am a Cutter.
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