Dear Cutting,
You helped me tremendously over the past twelve years. In the beginning, the very first time, was an accident. As much as I don't like to admit it, thats what it was. I got negative attention and I found that I was uncomfortable by that attention. I felt like I deserved your darkness, cutting. And when I was angry, I used you to calm down and I felt that it was the only real way to express the terrible rage I felt toward my parents, my molesters, and most of all myself. I cut when I was sad and broken, which was behind my anger. And it got to the point where I cut when I was content. I've never felt happy. You became my addiction after two of three months. Cutting made me feel strong and in control. I couldn't make my dad stop drinking, I couldn't make my mom stop throwing up , I couldnt stop my molester from touching me , I couldn't change the past. I never could and never will. But I did cut. I cut a lot. I had my own ritual and every time I followed my ritual I felt stronger at first, then ashamed. So incredibly ashamed. When I tried to cry, no tears came. So I cried bloody tears. It made me feel crazy and to this day I understand most of the reasons but not all of them. I won't forget the sad, disgusted, angry looks of hospital staff, parents, and therapists. I haven't used you in a long time, but I never thought of writing you a letter. Now I am saying goodbye, cutting. Goodbye to the security, the false control, the shame...and thank you for keeping me alive at my most difficult times.
