Worthless hidden scars (My self harm story)

Worthless (My self harm story)

Hello there, I'm Chloe. I'm the girl that is known for being happy, laughing and all in all, a little weird. But that is not the me that I know. When I'm in school it feels as if I am the main character in one huge role play. The person that people around me see and speak to is not my true identiy. It is the character I play in the role play of my own life. The only person that gets to see behind my mask of smiles is of course my bestfriend. Whom hides in the bottom on my bedside drawer and goes by the name of a blade.

I stared into my bathroom mirror with rage, crashing onto the floor feeling more and more worthless as each tear drop slowly ran down my face. Why me? Why can't I be her? Why can't I be thin and beautiful? Why am I the only one who is not perfect? So many questions rushed through my uneased brain cells. I was crying so much I could hardly see, never mind think straight. But of course, the only thing that stood out through my vision of tears was the razor, the dreaded razor that I had escaped from previously. The blade was like a cigeratte for an ex smoker.. The crave you use to have.. For that one thing that makes you forget all of those bad memories for a split second.. Came rushing back. With the door locked, I reached out for my enemy an placed it onto my wrist and slightly pierced my skin for the first time in months. I felt the adrenaline after seeing my oozing blood rush back through my whole body and for a moment all my worse nightmeres faded away into the distance and all I focused on was my seeping blood. I placed the blade against my skin for the second time, but this time I sliced. It felt good and not once did I feel guilty for giving in, it felt right. From then on, cutting became my addiciton again. The addiction I had previously escaped, the addction I told myself I would never go back to, the addiction that secretly ruins my life and others around me.

After a month of hiding my wrists; making more scars and lying to my friends, my addiction was still going strong. Coming home from the nightmere called school and enetering a completely different world. But it was still, a living nightmere. Each day, I came home sat on my bed and stared at my cuts thinking that there was not enough scars across my skin and that if I ever lose them I would lose myself. I know It's strange to get your head around, but you only really understand what goes on in a self harmers wreckless head until you're actually one of the evil, devil like addctions victims. I sat silently slitting but inside my head, I was screaming. Screming all of the things I think of myself. 'Ugly *slice* fat *slice* thick *slice* needy *slice* envy *slice* bitch *slice* worthless. *slice* '

After another hard day of playing the role of myself, I collapsed ino my room and  grabbed my razor from under the bed side drawer and began to slit my wrist. The blade was so blunt as I'd been abusing the addicion that past week, which resulted in having to cut more violently to get a real achivement of blood. I didn't mind though, as I said that 30 second releif from life I have after opening my own skin is worth anything. The razor was truly blunt though and no matter how hard I tried, there was no sucsess of seeing a cut slowly being pierced into my skin and the percious blood oozing out. Fustration and anger swam across my mind. I didn't know what to do, with no razors left for me to use it felt as if I was more worthless than ever. Until I remembered that my diabetic bestfriend had left a pack of needles in my drawer. I threw myself out of bed with tears streming down my face leaving mascara dripping over my wooden floor. I viciously pulled everything out of my drawers in desprate hope. Then I found it. The little black case, that had the needles that I was craving for inside. I ripped open the zip,  pulled a fresh needle out and cut. Deaper than usual. More blood than usual. I was too stressed too angry and fustrated for my normal dose of relief.. 'Drip, drop, drip, drop' my blood fell onto the hard cold wooden floor, just like water would flow out of a slow pace tap, mixing in with my earlier mascara drops. Seeing more blood pour and more cuts appear than usual, once I had my 'last' slice on my battered bloody wrist, I began to relax. I know.. It sounds strange, but trust me it's not when you're in the possission of self harm. When my cuts had stopped bleeding, I grabbed some tissue and cleaned my floor. Only just realizing the time, I went down stiars to say goodnight to my mother and her boyfriend, putting on my cardigan when making my way down. "Goodnight" I peared my head into the livingroom to see their faces staring back at me. "Goodnight darling see you in the morning" My mum said with her normal walming expression. As usual, Joe told me one of his jokes, which I have heard toooo many times! But I don't mind, for the seconds I 'laugh' people think I'm happy and as long as they think I'm happy, they will never know what's hidden behind my mask of smiles. I walked back up the stairs, stoking my cats before I went up. I did my normal hygine routine and climbed into bed. Leaning over to my bedside table 'Click' went the lap, darkness flooded the room and my mind. I can never get to sleep until after 12am, ever. This time was no different, with my cuts pounding with pain I finally dozed off. Not knowing how I was going to face the role play in the morning, my role play of school.