• A Cutter’s Dilemma

    (A story especially for you McDookie!!)

    Here I sit in the middle of my floor, hating myself for that very first cut.

    Slice.

    They say that it relieves pain and helps you get over your problems, but when it’s done, all you’re relieving is everything you believe in.

    Slice.

    It may seem cool at first because you’re becoming closer to fitting into the “emo” stereotype, but it’s only regret that comes in the end.

    Slice.

    Cutting over stupid things like I do helps nothing but to make me look uglier.

    Slice.

    I’ve lost my friends.

    I’ve lost my family.

    And now I’m beginning to believe that I’m losing my own sanity.

    This is my dilemma of course you can see. And I’m cutting out my sorrows that lie in me. Is it such a coincidence that my lines are rhyming?

    It really is.

    Come, step into my life as a cutter and I’ll tell you everything I’ve ever regretted. But before we start, I need to clean up the blood that has been pouring out of these pigmy sized cuts.

    Fresh blood.


    ( i wish there were divider lines. wah.)

    My name is Cara Carsely and this is my story. My very first cut was in a desolate stairwell of my school after harsh rejection from the boy I’ve liked for awhile now. It just felt like my heart was going to burst open and I would die. I promise I must’ve cried for about 45 minutes all the while bleeding it out.

    Relief was what I was hoping for, but when my arm healed, I regretted it and hated myself for destroying my body.

    I’ve begun to realize that love is not like anything, especially a ******** knife. So, why do I keep doing this?

    The answer to that question… I guess I want someone to pity me and feel sorry.

    Grabbing a towel from under my bed, I wiped away at the crimson red liquid that had begun to seep in between the floor boards of the wooden planks. I hope this time it doesn’t stain onto the kitchen ceiling. Last time that happened, mom almost killed me.

    That was the time I almost cut my entire arm off.

    Scary, I know.

    I looked down at my bandaged arm, where white elastic tape sealed about 37 cotton balls. It wasn’t the most attracting thing in my days, but it was better than tons of unhealed slits.

    I’m telling you this because it hurts.

    I want you to know that this self inflicted pain is one that will never heal.

    Running down a flight of wooden stairs, I had to check if my work had done any damage other than to myself. I checked the cream colored ceiling that was repainted in the kitchen, “whew”. There weren’t any unusual blotches or distortedness of color.

    I turned around to face my older brother Jason, who always hated when I would do this to myself.

    I wish I was a psychic so that I could’ve seen him coming in order to avoid him in time.

    Too bad I’m not.

    He stood there leaning against the steel framed doorway, blocking my only exit.

    Here I am enclosed in the little box that is my kitchen.

    He ran his unscarred hand through his hair and grunted as a sigh of being vexed. I bit my lip, looking down at the slate tiled floor. “Jason, I’m sorry,” I said just above a whisper trying to hide the arm that was badly damaged behind my back.

    That effort was to no prevail.

    He was glaring at me now, and that wasn’t a good sign.

    “Cara, why?”

    He came closer, grabbing the arm with ease, but it was still painful, since those were fresh cuts he was grabbing at.

    I shrugged my shoulders in a limpish sort of way, “I don’t know. I was… bored, I guess.”

    He looked up into my eyes and I had to avert his gaze because the seriousness in his eyes frightened me.

    Feeling a harder tug on my arm, I winced, and Jason made a sound that seemed saddening.

    “I keep telling you to stop. You tell me you will, but I see you putting no effort into it. You’ve already lost just about everyone else because of this, and if you keep going, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to help you either.”

    I think I’ll take that into consideration the next time I drag that paper cutter across my arm.

    Damn…

    “Jason I’m really sorry.”

    Not noticing the tears that had begun to drip down my eyes in little rivulets, I felt Jason’s muscled arms come around me in a warm embrace.

    “I love you too much for this.”

    Don’t say that. You’re making me feel sorry for ever getting you involved with me.

    Maybe even for my own birth.

    I’m ready to go now. It’s time for school and I’m going to be late.

    My arms lay limp as an emotional battle rages on within my mind.

    Help.

    I managed to push Jason off of me with a lack of gratefulness. The solemnity is getting me.

    Car keys.

    Check.

    School… more troubles ahead.


    (um... yeah)

    WHAM!

    I slammed my locker filled with tons of stickers promoting upcoming bands and new releases.

    Hawthorne Heights

    Nightwish

    …and Bullet for my Valentine was just a few that were part of my collection.

    Sudden warmth was bestowed upon my shoulder.

    Janice.

    One of my few friends that can actually decipher my problem.

    She used to cut, but it never got to the point that I’m at.

    I love her like a sister.

    Sometimes, I wish there were more people in the world like her.

    Maybe I can clone her.

    She smiled at me, giving a show of shiny pearl whites that were formed in a straight line.

    Shoving my hands into my pockets, I slumped against my locker, “how come you’re not in class?”

    Her mouth twitched and drew my attention to the beauty mark that was just in the right corner of it, “I was trying to skip, but now that you’re here, we can go in together.”

    Her arms interlaced with mine.

    International cuisine, here we come.

    Just before opening the door, I could smell the aroma of the sugar powdered dumplings we were supposed to be cooking. I’m not really sure if I should go in here just to receive a series of gauging stares from the people that used to be my friends.

    Oh well.

    I sighed as I pulled the brass handle and stepped in.

    Yup, they’re staring at me.

    Now you see the effects of my cutting. The only thing I could do was to scratch at the bandages that were slowly being pulled away.
    ~end~


    Author’s Note:

    This has been a story for McDookie by DA MONSTA UNDUR UR BEDS!! biggrin

    Take my advice; this story was especially for you because I had you in mind.

    Hopefully you get a message

    Out of it. I WUVZ JOO!!

    and for all you readers.. I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!!