My memory is perhaps the best anyone has seen. Perhaps that was the worst thing for me.
I still even remember the date. I was friends with someone, a boy, for a long time.
One day, I gave him my number and we texted all through the night. I loved him, as a friend. He told me that he had depression, that night, at 2am. He was cutting across the call and he showed me his cuts. I could only hold the phone numbly, for I had hardly known anything about self-harm or depression. I was only 12, in 6th grade.
I could only watch helplessly as he dragged a pencil sharpener blade side to side on his skin.
The cuts were close to each other and tightly packed. On his shoulder, where his short sleeves covered them. His thighs. I even remember the date.
I had nothing to say. I didn't want to hurt him, but I felt like a helpless loser because I just sat there stupidly while I watched my best friend drag a blade across his skin, watch as his blood rushed onto the towel he had under his arm. I didn't want to hurt him by saying nothing at a time like this, but at the same time I was scared I'd hurt him if I said something.
And that was the worst feeling I'd ever experienced. Because I loved him and nothing I did could help him.
About a couple of weeks later- I remember the date for this one as well- he texted me at 2am saying that he was cutting and he needed help.
Why did he text me? I will never know. But all I remember is at around 2am, I woke up, sweating and shaking as my stomach performed an acrobatic show, as if I just had a nightmare. But my sleep was completely dreamless, and there was no nightmare. Intuition pressured me to check my phone so I did, and his texts were there.
He was cutting and about to commit suicide.
I didn't know what to do. I was raised in an Asian family that never really taught me this stuff. I was literally just forced to win 1st at a math competition across over 10 counties, and everyone else got away with Cs and Bs. I never thought anyone could be so sad.
But here he was, my best friend, ready to take his own life. I spammed his name until he responded. I told him to not kill himself because I would always be there for him.
To this day, I wonder if I would've seen him at school the next day if I hadn't responded.
We texted for a bit- maybe an hour.
The next weekend, my mom was mad. She had seen my texts with him and called him "dangerous", an "attention seeker", and "over dramatic" because apparently he had no right to be cutting because he had enough food and water and a shelter.
She told me to end my friendship with him. I was then sent to my room.
I got my swiss army knife out and stared at it. I was near tears- no, I was in tears. My best friend was so sad that he would cut himself... and my mom called him all those names. But my mom meant well so I couldn't hold that big of a grudge. She was just ignorant, so I couldn't get too mad.
But at the time, I felt emotions inside me that I had never felt in my life- I felt unfairness that rocked my organs. I felt sadness that tightened my chest and made it hard to breathe and it made me feel pain that was almost physical. I felt anger that made my vision blurry and my muscles grow in strength and my whole body temperature rise. I felt new emotions that I had never felt. I looked at the knife and I took the blade out.
I gripped it. But then I said, "no."
No. This won't help. I put the blade back in and I threw the knife away. No. I wasn't going to. No.
I forgave my mom entirely- or so I acted like it. I never told anyone, but I did pour all the feelings into my diary.
Then I had a math competition. My parents said that if I didn't win first like last year, I couldn't go to the school I'm attending. I cried. The whole week before passed slowly. It was like I knew a hell was right in front of my face, waiting to drag me down. It was like a knife to my throat that hadn't started to puncture my skin. It was like only being able to watch as lava rolled right in front of me, but it didn't touch me yet- all I could feel was the intense heat.
I thought I'd finished crying, but the annual math competition happened to be the day of the night my friend had nearly killed himself.
I remembered what my mom had said about him. It was ironic. Most of the people that were my friends have depression. I was only close that once. That was all. But I remembered too much. I burst out crying on the spot at the competition before it started. It was a mix of fear and stress and pain and flashbacks and I cried.
It was the first time I'd cried in public
I later won 1st anyway.
But since I had cried, I told my friend and a couple other friends about what my mom had said. They were a shocked.
To this day, many of my friends still have depression, which is known as dangerous to my mom. If she had known how many self-harmers I was friends with, I don't think winning that competition would've helped!
But here's a word of advice. In your darkest hour, stay strong. If I'd brought the knife to my skin on the week before the math competition, or if I had done it after my mom's lecture, things could've been very, very different.
It still hurts, everything, but I feel like after I got through my darkest hour, everything was better.
But there are still days where the flashback feelings are too strong that I find it hard to breathe. But that all WILL pass some time.
I was sure of it.
