2008 Woodie Awards
The Secret World of Cutting
Anonymous
Issue date: 12/7/06 Section: Submissions
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My junior year of high school started out like any other year. I had new classes and new teachers, but I had absolutely no idea what I was in for.
I wanted to expand my horizons that year, so I decided I wanted to make a few friends outside of the "popular" circle that I had become trapped in. I became incredibly close with five people who have remained true friends to me to this day. My other friends didn't appreciate the fact that they were outcasts so to speak, and decided that it was my time to be ousted from the group. Rumors started flying about awful things I was allegedly saying about my former friends. I thought it would all blow over, but within a month, I went from having a lot of friends to having five
Things got worse though. About two weeks before Thanksgiving, my best friend Steve was riding his quad in upstate New York when his brakes failed and he flew off of his quad and into the middle of a dirt road. He was stunned so he couldn't get away from the truck that was barreling down the road toward him. The drunk driver ran him over, crushing his lungs. Steve suffered an incredibly painful death, and all the driver could say was, "I'm sorry, I thought it was a dog."
After Steve's death, I felt like I had lost too much. The grief was too great and I just wanted to see him again. I started becoming obsessed with death and darkness. I stopped leaving my room except for school, I barely talked and I was slipping deeper and deeper into depression. Then one day, I couldn't handle the feeling anymore, so I attempted suicide.
I was unsuccessful, but I woke up in the hospital feeling strangely relieved, relaxed and almost happy. I looked down at my wrists, saw the stitches and smiled; it scared me at first, but then I had a thought: Maybe this could be my therapy.
My mind was so twisted from the prior months that I had convinced myself cutting would relieve the pain I was feeling, that I could make the pain something I could see and relate to, and then it would eventually just go away. I was wrong.
I wanted to expand my horizons that year, so I decided I wanted to make a few friends outside of the "popular" circle that I had become trapped in. I became incredibly close with five people who have remained true friends to me to this day. My other friends didn't appreciate the fact that they were outcasts so to speak, and decided that it was my time to be ousted from the group. Rumors started flying about awful things I was allegedly saying about my former friends. I thought it would all blow over, but within a month, I went from having a lot of friends to having five
Things got worse though. About two weeks before Thanksgiving, my best friend Steve was riding his quad in upstate New York when his brakes failed and he flew off of his quad and into the middle of a dirt road. He was stunned so he couldn't get away from the truck that was barreling down the road toward him. The drunk driver ran him over, crushing his lungs. Steve suffered an incredibly painful death, and all the driver could say was, "I'm sorry, I thought it was a dog."
After Steve's death, I felt like I had lost too much. The grief was too great and I just wanted to see him again. I started becoming obsessed with death and darkness. I stopped leaving my room except for school, I barely talked and I was slipping deeper and deeper into depression. Then one day, I couldn't handle the feeling anymore, so I attempted suicide.
I was unsuccessful, but I woke up in the hospital feeling strangely relieved, relaxed and almost happy. I looked down at my wrists, saw the stitches and smiled; it scared me at first, but then I had a thought: Maybe this could be my therapy.
My mind was so twisted from the prior months that I had convinced myself cutting would relieve the pain I was feeling, that I could make the pain something I could see and relate to, and then it would eventually just go away. I was wrong.
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