Story of My Scars

This is my story of my problems but i do not wish for pity I just wish to be able to make it so others learn from my mistakes.

© Achlys T. Agrave

Chapter 1

depression and selfharm

My name is Achlys T. Agrave, age 15. October 26, 2011 was the day I became highly depressed. I started cutting the same day. I remember it like it was yesterday, it was math class 9:45 in the morning. The day before one of my best friends and I handed in our first major project and she didn't talk to me for two days before and the day we handed it in. She then told me finally why; she thought that I plagiarized my whole half of the project because she didn't think it sounded like “my writing”. It's was as though she like everyone else thought I was to stupid to be able to write like a adult but only as a child in the first grade. I couldn't stop thinking about it all throughout math class, and it wasn't till my friend looked at me and took my mechanical pencil away that I started feeling a burning/stinging sensation on my left forearm. It was bleeding, yet I never felt it nor did I know that I was doing it at the time. All I could feel was three things when I did it; Hatred, betrayal, and depression. I had no clue that it was possible for her to accuse me of such thing. She didn't know my writing at all; she never saw my writing since the April before.

Before I knew it she turned most of my friends on me but maybe three or four of them. That was when I found out whom I could trust in the future because and it certainly wasn't her. I kept cutting for 3 months and 4 days after that. I realized then that you can use many things to cut. I am defiantly not proud of it. My first cut ended up getting infected and opened I bleed out a lot. Though I had many excuses, there was no way to avoid the questions forever. My basketball and ringette teammates started asking questions. I lied, I started to wear long sleeves all the time, and hoodies, and my warm ups 24/7 almost. Then my ringette and school counselor both called, they told my parents what I was doing. After that I wouldn't even look any of them in the eye I was too scared. My parents kept looking at me as though ashamed, the school counselor called me out of class for checkups, and my coach kept calling me to the side.

I then started feeling like the world would be a better place if I wasn't a part of it. As though it would be better for all if I was gone. If you know that feeling then you would understand what I was thinking of doing. The thoughts are not something people want. Nor do they need.

February 2nd, 2012 was the last time I cut since. We ended up getting 100% on the project of ours. We started talking more during our final school year. We are really close again. But the depression has never left, the thought of hurting myself and wanted to disappear haven't left me neither.

I will not bore you with the story of my life for that nobody will be able to take. Nor am I, but this is part of my story, judge me all you want. I do not care. This is my story and it is true. I do not wish for pity just to send a message, do not make the same mistake that I did. For the scars are hunting memories and the pain is addicting.


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