It all starts out with a protractor from math class, a rubber band that you once used to hold together your flashcards to memorize words for your foreign language class. A broken protractor, a rubber band on your left wrist… that’s how it starts. A journey of, “the last time I’ll do it… I promise.” A journey of tears, but only at night, quietly so no one will be there to question your sadness. Then your friend, or someone you once were close with, pulls off a joke saying that “you’re fat”, and all you want to do is go home; but you can’t do that… you’ll come off as the weak one, and that will make them want to mess with you even more. You’re desperate and you don’t care if you come off weak, because you’re at home, alone. No one there to witness anything, nobody will witness the first time that you took yourself to the knife, most importantly nobody will witness your first true cut. Now you gave yourself a couple of red little marks from the broken protractor, and the rubber band to ease the pain, but that’s not enough for you. The pain doesn’t last enough, the releaf, the deep breaths that you take in everytime you slit your wrist. And then your throat beggings to clog up with tears, and even tough you’re alone, you don’t let them out. You fight a battle againts yourself, knowing that it will be a fight that you’ll lose everyday. The insecurity comes everytime you go to school, and it follows you until you lay down in bed where you’re forced to think until you fall asleep. Suddenly, everything that was said to you as a joke today, comes rushing back, and your friends don’t stop. They see that it’s not bothering you, they see that you’re okay, they see your smile and expect that you just brush off these jokes, when you really take it to the heart. Because of them, another scar is added to that beautiful sacred body of yours. “You cut yourself?” They’ll ask once you accidently roll up your sleves, and you’ll want to reply with, “You think I’m pathetic.”But you won’t. You’re already scared of being judged, and you don’t want to draw attention to yourself so you’ll smile, and say “It’s just a cat.” and putting your arms behind your back. Sometimes people will lie to you, “I can read your mood just by looking into your eyes.” And you’ll be forced to smile but you’ll think to yourself, “Ha sure, I was faking a smile ever since I could remember, and no one assumed anything… such bullshit is coming out of your mouth.” But you won’t say anything, you won’t take the pressure of the questions, “Why do you cut?” “Do you want attention?” “What’s wrong with you?” “You should really get some help, like you know, mental help.” You won’t take the stares, the whispers when you walk by people in the hallways. You will NOT take losing your precious little things you assumed were your ‘friends’. You will lie to them, just to make sure that they sleep peacefully tonight, so that your life story won’t make them stay awake. So, how bad do you want those 3 little birds to come to your window to tell you that you don’t need to worry?
