Sitting listening to the sounds of the family i belong to hang out and bond haunts me. Am i involved nope. Left out on the sidelines. But, i am not sure i would want it any other way. I have always been on the sidelines, never the popular girl at school or the best at anything. The only time i have ever been in the middle of the pitch as it were, is when the shit is being ripped out of me.
Five years of my life i have spent wiht people picking on me and emphasing my flaws. Flaws that get worse with emphasis, so really it was a horrible never ending cycle. Picking on my appearance and causing me to starve myself, picking on me becuase i was skinny makig me feel bad for being skinny but still not being able to eat what i should be. Picking on me becuase i was intelligent, made me want to just quit school and make myself stupid, always being copied at school so my so called friends could get better marks. Picked on for self harming. That was the worst. How are you supposed to cope with that?
Every time i walked into a room or said anything people would start making gestures and drop snide comments. Did the teachers get involved, not really. They showed sympathy and did thier best but they didnt know the tourtue i was submitting myself to. What was going on in my head was far worse then anyone ever realised. Even having counselling i couldnt express how i felt through words. Spoken words that is, written words are easier.
On one of those days when i tourture myself i could cut up to 20 times if not more. Ranging from arms, legs, body, shoulders anywhere i could hide really. Hide it from my family, friends, teachers and sometimes from myself. If i couldnt see them i wouldnt get reminded how crap i was feeling. But every night when i would take the clothes off the cuts could be seen and the tears would fill up in my eyes. I could see the pain i felt, run my hands over the cuts and feel the urge to cut some more. Just to take the edge off the feelings i was having then. And i would cut again. This could happen two or three times a day. There was a time when i would go to the toliet at school armed with my shapner blade and slice my legs up on draw thin red lines on my arms, just so i could function for the rest of the day. Around the same time i would have to cut before i slept other wise i would be up all night just lying there.
Things did improve and for a time the cutting ceased. It took a lot of hard work and support but i did manage to do it for a few months but when something knocked me down it would just start up the cycle again. Five years after i started i am still going. Still alomst daily, pressing the blade into my skin and feeling the relief in the pain and seeing the blood. It helps supress my internal pain for a while becuase it had been replaced by the external pain. It keeps me going, helps me get out of bed each day, helps me plaster on a fake smile and act like everything is okay, helps me live a life of lies.
