Origins (1)

This is not a cry for help. This is not for attention. This is an analysis type of thing. Reasoning behind cutting, if you will. First installment.

I don't know how this happened.

As a child, I was always happy. Laughing. Playing. I was popular. I was loved.
But something changed.
I could throw all these therapeutic reasons at you: my father chose drugs over his children, abandonment issues, low self-esteem, an unappreciative mother. To be honest, I don't know how I became this way. So sad. So depressed.
Middle school, I suppose, is when everything shifted. I had to be the new kid in the middle of the semester. I had no friends.  People had already established their cliques, and I was tossed to the sidelines to observe. I didn't have anyone to eat lunch with, so I skipped. Sat in the commons alone. Watching others talk and laugh. When group projects were assigned, I claimed to want to work alone, just so I didn't have to go through the humiliation of not being wanted.

Just as I started to get my bearings, plant new roots, my family and I moved to Georgia, which is very different from flat, cynical Florida. When I started high school in Rural-town USA, everyone knew everyone. Except me. New kid again.
I kept thinking, if I were prettier, I'd be accepted. If I were skinnier, people would talk to me. I'd make friends. But I wasn't either. So, just like before, I sat alone in the commons, waiting for someone to notice me. Waiting... Waiting... Always waiting...
And it hurt. No matter how elementary, it will always hurt to be picked last. To be the one that no one wants.

From my old school, I had this friend who cut herself, so sometimes I did just to fit in with her. But I never understood it. I didn't have a reason for it.

I don't remember why I cut myself for the first time in high school. Maybe just to remember what it's like. Maybe to fill the void. But I knew people would notice my wrists, so I cut on my upper arms. Just small scratches with a safety pin. I liked the irony of it. Safety pins aren't as safe as they claim.

Then came the anger. Again, I don't know what caused it. I never know. But over time, I grew this hatred, burning and fierce. Not for others. Not for those that wronged me or cast me aside.
For myself.
All of a sudden, I noticed everything. I looked in the mirror and I saw every flaw. My eyebrows too thick, my lips too small, my hair too dull, my breasts too small, my legs too large, my skin too pale, my arms too flabby, and my stomach.... My stomach became my worst enemy. I felt huge. And I thought that everyone around me viewed me the same way.

My doctor prescribed me phentermine, upon my mother's request, and started losing weight because of it. For the first time in a long time, I was happy. For the year that it lasted, I felt amazing. Unstoppable. Fierce. Powerful. I felt beautiful. Like every girl should. When I hit a healthy weight, my prescription ran out. Unfortunately, in more cases than not, the users of phentermine gain their weight back, plus some, after completion.

I don't know if you realize this, but after you've felt that happy and content, and had it snatched out of the palm of your hand... I immediately slid back. I hated myself again, but this time was worse. It consumed me, engulfed me, drowned me.

This is where the cutting really starts.

Instead of my shoulders, I focused on the part of me that I hated the most: my stomach. I knew that my stomach's skin was sensitive, so it was hard at first. But after a while, I guess I just got used to it. The cuts got longer. Deeper. Until all I could focus on was the bright red ribbon sliding down my stomach, caressing my skin as if to comfort me. As if to tell me that everything will be okay.

And herein lies the beginning.

"Perfect lines crossed her wrists, not near any crucial veins, but enough to leave wet red tracks across her skin. She hadn't hit her veins when she did this; death hadn't been her goal.”
~Richelle Mead

Author's Note

Wasn't satisfied with the initial ending, so I tweaked it a bit.

Reviews

[Inda]

I just went back to this, read the stories backward lol, honestly though you have made a very concise piece that can even continue and really feels fresh and original, which is very difficult nowadays. I do think that if you can keep this style of writing rather than the one in The Voices (3) it'll connect the pieces in a more seamless way. Great job!

[Rachel Anderson]

Thanks for going back and reading this. I'm kinda experimenting with my writing style in these. Thanks for your feed back! :)

[Lucien Maier]

so I have gone down a road like this in my life. Although cutting was never my mo.

The piece speaks to the reader. Showing them, what it is like to go down that particular rabbit hole. Very engaging. Once it had me it did not let go. well done

[Rachel Anderson]

Thanks! Glad you enjoyed it.

[hundi]

I was mesmerized by this , I can relate more than you know , brutally honest ,very good

[Rachel Anderson]

Thank you, that's what I was going for. :)

[Tree]

Very honest very powerful; and humble. I felt I learned something valuable. Important. Thank you for sharing with us this well written and insightful piece...

[Rachel Anderson]

Thank you so much! I'm extremely grateful for the feedback.