I had a rather anticlimactic ending with self harm. My parents found out I did it and the pain in their eyes was on of the only things that hurt me more than a blade going through my skin. I felt nothing those two years dealing with depression, and I still get asked about the scars on my skin. I forget they are there most of the time if I’m honest. I know there are people who worked hard to get through self harm. They had count apps that counted the hours, minutes and seconds that they didn’t hurt themselves, just to know how long or how much they have progressed from the last time they tried not hurting themselves. I know most regret it every day waking up and seeing scars. Sometimes I look down on my arm and get upset at myself for being so “dumb”. I’m not sure if I feel ashamed of my scars because thats the only kind of attention they have ever gotten. The attention is never “Have you stopped?” Yes “Good job!”. It’s always “Why?” “Are you okay” “Ouch” which is so… typical and expected but those reactions are also usually from those who have most likely never self harmed. I’m not sure what the point of this was… other than to tell 17 year old me she did well. 17 year old me passed a mentally abusive relationship and 2 of the saddest years of her life and only came out with a couple of scars. I never told her she was brave, strong, and different I always really tough on her and I’m not sure why.
I also wanted to say sorry to 15 year old me, for hating her so much. I shouldn’t have carved worthless into your thigh, I shouldn’t have used dirty blades to “discipline” you. I’m sorry for taking you out of your classes in high school just to go to the bathroom and draw blood from your arms, stomach, and thighs. I shouldn’t have printed you out a guide on 100 different ways on how to starve yourself and how to stop yourself from eating when hungry. I shouldn’t have malnourished you, made you throw up after you ate or made you drink nothing but water for 4 days. I’m sorry for hating the skin you were in, for thinking you were ugly and useless. Fat and incapable of loving. I filled you up with laxatives every morning even on days you didn’t eat. I didn’t let you eat but i let you have 3 Vicodin pills instead. breakfast, lunch, dinner. Xanax to sleep when you were hungry, and adderall to keep you up for school on the nights you did nothing but cry from the self hate. You were so strong to go through all of this, I can’t believe you are still here.
losing his temper and sending his teacher to the hospital, Eren has
court-ordered community service and mandatory anger management to look forward
to all summer. When he gets placed at
the community library, he meets the mysterious Levi Ackerman, who teaches him
about life, romance and letting go.
Chapter One - Noise
“And how did you feel in that moment?”
A sound was echoing in Eren’s ears, reminding him of passing
under a bridge with the car windows open.
“Angry,” Eren answered against the wind blowing through his
mind, crossing his arms more tightly over his chest to keep him grounded in
His therapist, Petra, jotted down a note and did not look
surprised. She looked exactly the same as she had during his last three visits.
Short, strawberry blonde hair, a petite frame and warm smile.
Eren liked her better than his previous therapist. He
trusted her more, but it didn’t make it easier to talk to her about the jumbled
mess of thoughts floating through his skull.
He noticed that her lips were moving and he struggled to
hear her words. “…the recent altercation you had at school?”
“What?” Eren blinked.
Another smile, the scratch of pen against paper. “Did you
get into another altercation at school today?”
Eren looked at the floor. “You already know.”
“I’m asking you what happened,” Petra said lightly, not a
trace of judgment in her voice.
“It was just Jean.”
“Your friend Jean?” She prompted, waving her hand slightly
in the air.
Eren snorted. “Yeah, my friend.”
“What’s funny?” Petra asked.
“My friend Jean,” Eren scratched the back of his neck,
feeling more focused than he had for their entire session. “Sometimes we get
“I see,” Petra scribbled something else down and Eren
frowned. “What did you fight about today?”
“Did you just write down that I said Jean was my friend?”
“Eren,” Eren didn’t have to look at her face to know she
wasn’t smiling anymore. “Tell me about the fight.”