I’m new. And… uncomfortable with this. Understandably I think. I supposed I’m supposed to tell my story? Well, from the beginning: I had a friend, she was beautiful, inside, outside. I loved her so much. I knew her for almost a year before I noticed the scars on her arms. She never took off her coat. I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared. I didn’t want to see her in pain, I didn’t want her to be in pain. I wanted to snatch it all away from her, shove it on me, take it all away, do whatever I needed to do to make her smile so brightly the sun blinked. I begged her, pleading, telling her she doesn’t deserve it. Then I threatened. “If you do it, I’ll know, and I’ll do it too.”
i was so stupid.
Then the world became a downhill slope and we were riding at top speed. Love twisted with screams of hate, tears blurred into laughter as we dragged each other down a mountain of blame and affection. Finally, I think we just couldn’t take it, we stopped talking. We wouldn’t talk for almost a year after that. During that year of separation our school had a survey. Extra credit in the Health class I was failing. I took it, not seeing the harm, and answered the questions honestly. I didn’t think they’d pull in a therapist. I didn’t think they’d call my parents. I didn’t think I’d see my mom crying, my dad yelling. They yelled at me. That almost made me laugh. I’d been in pain for the past year and their first reaction was to yell. And I was the messed up one? I think they blamed themselves. I think they blamed me more. They pulled me out of school. The next school year I was home school and that friend, from before, she moved and I never saw her.
The world was grey.
I think nowadays I’m a little better. I can keep my head above water as I ride the waves of sinking, soaring and floating. I trim my hair when I’m sad, as an alternative. I wear black to feel balanced and I listen to music to drown out the white noise.
But the marks are still there.
This is beautiful. I can totally relate to what happened between you and your friend, it’s scary. We pulled each other down, too, screaming and crying and laughing and blaming and hating and loving. Both of us self-injuring. But like you, after a short time, we stopped talking, too.
I hope this helps you in any way to know that you are not alone, to know that there is at least someone else (and I know that there are a lot more people who can relate, too.) who can relate to your story. Who know what it’s like to lose a best friend to the up-and-down ride of s.i.ing., and to have your parents yell out of fear and not knowing what to do.
Staystrong
Wow… I began reading this and tought OMG MY LIFE… I was the first to hurt myself out of the two of us.. it made her start..
we fell in love…
my parents hate me for being gay. theyre threatening to pull me out of school next year. they say i will be home schooled. they blame her for all of my problems. they dont understand that i did this to myself before she and I were close.
“I think nowadays I’m a little better. I can keep my head above water as I ride the waves of sinking, soaring and floating. I trim my hair when I’m sad, as an alternative. I wear black to feel balanced and I listen to music to drown out the white noise.
But the marks are still there.”
The words you write are beautiful.