I’d like to talk about cutting. It’s a subject I’ve much experience with. After a very bad point in my life I resorted to cutting in order to feel something, anything. The events I suffered were beyond bad and at a very young age and I was ill equipped to handle these emotions. I shutdown inside and to this day don’t think I’ve opened everything back up. I still feel vulnerable and helpless to change things. In the struggle to learn to cope I cut.

I’ve stopped at times only to fall backward and screw up again. Each time I cut it’s a new lessons for me. These lessons become etched upon my flesh and the name of this article is “lessons” as well as the poem below.

The impact of my cutting has run deep in my family. I’ve hidden my arms, legs and when my parents got wise…