Iím Cassie, 14 years old. I have a long story to tell although Iím not that old. It involves a lot of Self-Injury.

When I was quite young, perhaps seven, my father was diagnosed with Acute Lymphosetic Leukemia. Most of the time I was left with a baby-sitter whom I grew very attached to and I grew up very fast. By the time I was ten, I had experienced death and loss on several occasions. By twelve, Iíd lost count. The baby-sitter I called Mom had left me, and I was lost without her.  I was absolutely devastated. Shortly after she ďdisappearedĒ, my pets were dropping like flies.

They were the only friends I had because I never had a chance to go anywhere and make real friends and in school, I was always alone. I didnít want to let anyone in. There were a few pets I was especially fond of and they all were taken away from me in one way or another. So now, I had one friend. Stacie.

She used me and abused me all while making me believe somehow that I wasnít whole without her. During my relationship with her, I discovered the art of self-injury. Thatís what it was to me, an art. I could use my body as a canvas for free and embellish it in any way I wanted to. Straight lines, circles, letters, Chinese symbols, even intricate pictures were carved into my body. I adored it.

My scars were my best friends. Whenever I needed a crying shoulder, they were there no matter what. Once people started getting what I was doing, I was in the hospital. Short amounts of time several times. Sometimes I enjoyed getting tricks and ideas from other kids there and I made many Ďfriendsí.  I was on all sorts of drugs and in all kinds of therapy, but I didnít care. At least not, untill ďMom,Ē came back into my life.  I donít know why I held on like I did, but it wasnít worth it.  She told me to stop cutting and to stop doing drugs and I listened for a while.  I soon discovered that she was no where near sincere at all and she was just trying to humor me. Maybe she thought I was still seven. She was around for a while and soon I noticed her tapering attempts to keep me happy. I just replied to her emails and talked when she called. She made up lies and stooped talking to me. I never told my parents because I didnít want them to feel bad for me so I took all the guilt for her.

I started cutting again because I had no reason not to. I decided to leave drugs behind because I suddenly took an interest in school. I still have some of this going on. Iím still settling closure on ďMom.Ē Iím still not healthy.

Iím still taking medication. Iím still a mess. I have high hopes.  I have a really good group of friends that care about me. My best friend, Eileen is going through a lot of this with me, but Iím trying to keep her away from self-destruction. She keeps me going. I have my dog, Lady. She feels my pain. My boyfriend is always there, almost as much as the scars. Iím trying to leave that behind. Iím doing a lot better, but Iím still in a hole.  Maybe my little escapade here will let people know that there is a light at the end of this tunnel. Good luck. If youíre not already there, try like hell to keep away from where Iíve been. Itís no good.


Thanks for reading

Cassie B





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