"Hey! You killed my iPod!" I shouted angrily at my best friend. "Oh . . . Sorry, Mo!" he said quietly. "No, sorry won't fix it! I'm gonna go cut myself in a corner!" I said.
All of them froze and stared at me. I kept my goofy grin on my face, and they realized I was playing, and laughed. "Monet', don't scare us like that!" Someone called. I smiled, how in just a few months I had changed my ways made me happy that I could sit and joke about it now.
Just months ago, I was an emotional wreck . . . I cut myself regularly. I hated life. I'd just give up on everything . . . Never speak to people for weeks at a time. Ditch school just because I didn't feel like it. I'd even lost touch with a close friend of mine, and the reason we were reunited was the untimely death of her mother.
I hated my parents . . . Both of them. They left me with my grandma and grandpa, as well as my other three siblings, while they left. I had no idea where they were, or if they were even alive, until my mom would come visit, covered in bruises and cuts, because my father abused her. And she wouldn't leave. Then she would be gone the next morning, without even a goodbye. It hurt so much, by the time I was 10, she had come back and was back to stay, but my dad refused to see us.
I hated myself more than anybody else. I wanted perfection, I wanted the boy I had cared the most about for so long to care back. I would have died just to know he loved me. I would have died just to hold his hand, to touch his perfect face. I hated myself for being imperfect, because he didn't care for me. I hated everything about myself. I had even stooped so low as to act without care around everybody, which resulted in fights, detentions, and disappointment.
I hated everybody else . . . I wanted them all to go away forever. I had told everybody I hated them . . . Given them all a reason to want to smack me in my face. Somehow, deep down inside, I knew I needed a good slapping. I knew that would give me a reality check, send me spiraling back to who I was: the happy, giddy girl who can make anybody smile just by talking to them.
I would have unexplained cuts all over my thigh, and if my mom happened to see (she rarely did) she would question it. I have thought up over a thousand lies, so I picked one off of the top of the list. "I was playing with the kittens. They're vicious little monsters." or "I fell and hit a chair at school. I'm okay." In all reality, I wasn't okay. I was far from healthy in my head.
There were days where I would sit in my room and cry for hours, curled up in a ball on my bed. I would blast my stereo and sob as loud as I wanted, cell phone turned off, and lights out. I stared into the mirror in my room and watched the changes in my face day by day, how I became someone else, physically and mentally.
Then, my friends had set up something to talk to me. They saw me melting away, from the girl they had come to know and love, to an alien creature that they didn't know anymore. They laid it all out for me, and when it came down to it, my options were talk to an adult, or they would tell. It was one or the other, and if they told, they would spill it all out all at once. So I went, and it was the best thing I've ever done for myself and the people who care about me.
At first, things got worse. I started cutting deeper because she was bringing up problems I had buried for so long. These were what was causing the pain I felt now. I never thought it would help . . . I cried more, I cut deeper, I slept less. But after a little bit . . . I saw improvements in myself. My grades were coming back up, I wanted to go to school, and I no longer cut. Then the tears just slowed . . . And eventually stopped. My friends cheered me on the whole way, as they noticed I wore tighter clothes, and shorter sleeves. Meaning, there was no chafing going on to cause me physical pain, and there was nothing to show on my arms, just fading scars. They gave me hugs when I cried after each of my appointments at the beginning, and then they would high five me and congratulate me when I walked out of the appointments with a confident smile on my face towards the end.
I got my self confidence back. I didn't care that he didn't want to be with me, because he was still one of my closest friends, and he helped me through the painful days. We did go out twice, but it didn't work out. The second time, it didn't work because he moved. As I write this, I have found out three hours ago that he is in California . . . And that's where he wants to stay. But I'm happy for him, because he's happy. And so am I, happy that I had the chance to know him, and happy that he helped me.
Now I can sit happily in a room with my friends . . . And joke about what used to be a problem with me. But when I overcame my problems, I closed out of another chapter of my life. And I'll never go back. The cutting caused more problems than it solved. So if you need to talk, y-mail me, and I can help you by giving you the encouragement you need to go on and get help. Everybody deserves a friend who helps them, that's the reason I'm still here today.
