Psyke.org

Becca

My Story

Copyright, Becca

My name is Becca and I would like to tell you my cutting story. I have been a cutter for three months and I can’t stop. If you have already started my advice to you is to stop right now before it gets any worse. When I started cutting everyone said that I only cut because I was a poser and wanted to be like everybody else in our school. The real reason for my cutting was that because I have had several friends and family members die. My best friend died of Leukaemia and I have had drugged up friends and family members die so please if this is your reason find other coping skills.

My Story on Cutting

Copyright, Becca

I have been cutting for about five months now because I got bullied at school for ages and had problems at home. I used scissors at first but then I got a razor blade which I found worked better. Then yesterday my parents found out about the whole thing because they read all my poetry which I write when I am depressed. They weren’t angry with me just upset. So now I have to stop cutting which is really hard. But I would say to anyone out there: If your parents don’t know, you should tell them because they won’t be mad and it’s better in the long term. They can help you. Good luck everyone.

My Fucked Up Little Story

Copyright, Becca

I’m 15 and live in a hick ass bullshit town in Wyoming. I know all you guys are from big cities and think this shit just goes on in places like that. Well think again. I can’t live without cutting. It’s the only thing I can do to keep me from completely offing myself. My dad was a real fuck head and took off before I was even to. That’s when my mom moved to this hell on Earth. I hate my life here and just want to fucking get out by any means necessary. I started cutting when my mom used to get drunk and forget about important shit that meant stuff to me when I was young. Then I grew up and realised how it was gonna be. It all went downhill from there. I cut all the time and got as fucked up as I could. Weed, meth, it didn’t matter anymore, as long as I felt better. It’s getting worse now and I’m not sure what’s gonna happen.

Untitled

Copyright, Becca

I tried to kill myself a few weeks ago. For about the fifth time. It was those damn Panadols again. For many months I would abuse them and take a packet of painkillers to make me feel better. to help me sleep. so I wouldn’t feel anything. One night I had enough, two and a half packets later I was really sick and here I am alive and suffering kidney damage. I’m so stupid, I can’t even kill myself properly. I also cut myself up really bad last night. Again. It’s getting worse by the day. For about seven years I have been feeling this way and I don’t know if I can take it anymore. If I’ve lasted this long, I suppose I could wait a little bit longer. I just can’t get those thoughts out of my head. I just wonder if everyone who doesn’t hate me already would be better of without me. Maybe? I’m not sure. We’ll see.

 

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