Psyke.org

Briana

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Copyright Briana

I’m fourteen years old. I recently have started cutting. It’s a bad habit, as I know. But it just feels so good. I know that seems wrong, probably not to many of you, since you know how it feels. I’ve only told one of my friends, and I feel I can trust her. I’ve done it every night, and sometimes day, since I started. Coping with hiding the scars and cuts has become pretty easy to me. I do it — simply, because I like it. I hope that you all understand this. Not saying that you should start or do it again, I mean, if I ever told my family, they would try to stop me, of course, or worse — they’d lock me up in an asylum.

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Copyright, Briana

My name is Briana. I’m fourteen years old and I’ve been self-mutilating for about a year. I started just playing around and erasing with a friend. It didn’t mean anything at first. But now my whole hand is a big huge scar and I erase my arm. The erasing is just for fun or when I’m bored but when I’m mad I cut. A few weeks ago I OD’ed on Tylenol and they sent me to the mental hospital for a week. They didn’t really help me at all I just acted like they did so I could get out. I know I need help but I don’t want it. I talk to my therapist about this and he says I don’t want to change because I like all this attention. That’s not true because I could care less what anyone says or thinks about me. I don’t know though. Maybe one day I’ll just be gone and I won’t have to deal with this any more. Hopefully.

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Copyright, Briana

My name is Briana and I’m fourteen years old. I just started cutting a few months ago. I admit I started it because I wanted attention from my mom and family because I feel that the only one they give attention to is my younger brother. And cutting was what I turned to because I thought it might work since crying never does. But it didn’t turn out that way. Now I don’t want anyone to know. I’ve only told one person and he helps me through everything that’s shitty in my life. He’s the only one that knows I feel this way. My friends and everyone think everything is fine. But I know it’s not. I hate my life so much. I think about killing myself every day. Nothing really makes me happy anymore. People think everything is fine just because I’m a cheerleader but I hate cheering. They’re like, “oh, your pretty and popular”. There is so much more to life than that. I want so much more than just to be the pretty girl. I know I need help but I don’t want anyone to know. And now I can’t stop so I don’t know what to do.

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Copyright, Briana

I just want you to post my story because it’s sad. Reading all those other people’s stories made me cry. I cut, I burn, I do anything to ease the pain, but for me it’s not… I have tried to commit suicide several times but I can never do it. I am weak and cutting for me is to one day hope I have the courage to just press a little harder and cut a little deeper so I can end my misery. I have been to juvenile hall. I have been to the psych ward. I am a very suicidal and hurt person and I don’t know why I harm myself. I love my skin. Skin is beautiful. I just don’t know how to cope. Just writing this letter brings me to tears. All this pain hurts, it really does. I think cutting is a way for me to make this pain I feel inside apparent on the outside. Life is hard and somtimes you think you need a way out. Trying so hard to end my life was the wrong idea, but I didn’t want to go on. I still don’t, but cutting just made me feel stronger. Like I am in control. But I’m not. I mean, sure I can harm myself and try to make myself feel better by telling myself I own this situation, but my mood is so unpredictable and I really don’t want to live. But I have to. I am a coward and I cannot go through with killing myself. Every time I cut I tell myself “you are not weak, you can do this, push a little harder, make the blade go deeper,” but it never happens and I am grateful for this weakness I possess. I also used to “cut him away”. I was in love and I got my heart broken. I thought I was worthless so I ruined my body. But thank you for listening to my story.

 

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