Personal Narrative: My Best Friend

1392 Words 6 Pages
It all started about 20 months ago. I mean, I had to lie about it. I couldn’t tell my parents or they would never see me as their child again. They would be so mad and disappointed in me. I was hurting so bad that I decided to open myself up. Giving a cold, lifeless piece of metal control of me. Having it become my best friend. The only thing I kept close to me.
I got so sad that my appetite went away. I barely ate. I was getting worse as the cuts were getting deeper and harder to hide. As time goes on, people would see my cuts and scars and would say;
“Are you ok?”
“Don’t do that stuff, it’s stupid!”
So I started doing it on my thighs and stomach. Those two put together, I have about 250 scars or something around that number. I couldn’t
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I was disgusted with myself. I went to the bathroom and grabbed a razor, it was cold kind of like snow. I went back to my room and sat on the rough carpeted floor and let it take over. It was hard to stop. It was comforting like a warm hug or blanket. My mom came into my room, and asked to see what I was doing and I told her nothing. Of course she didn’t believe me. She came closer and tears started to form because I knew that everything was about to end. I couldn’t see; my eyes were so clouded by my tears. My mom started yelling at me and called my dad in. He went ballistic. He started yelling at me in a voice I’ve never heard before. He picked me up out of my chair and he said, “WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING CATHERINE?!” My mind had gone blank. All the thoughts were flooding my mind like a heavy storm. I started thinking “Why didn’t you go deep enough? Why didn’t you just end it? You just made everything worse for you! Now your family hates you. You’re stupid …show more content…
I had made my mom cry so much to where I felt terrible. “Why did i do this to myself?” My dad was speeding. He wouldn’t slow down as much as I asked him to. The word sorry was the only thing that could come out of my mouth, it was on repeat.
I was tugged out of the car and guided into the emergency room with my arm wrapped in a washcloth soaked in cherry red blood. My mom was holding me tight as they gave the person at the window my information. She wouldn’t let go. Everyone was staring at me; I was the fish in the fishbowl.
I was scared out of my mind. My dad went outside and called my sister and said, “Brianna, come to the hospital. Your mom just caught Catherine cutting.” She came instantly. I kept saying to myself “You made everything so bad. You made your sister leave work. Why did you do this? Why are you so stupid?”
I started thinking why I started doing that and why I couldn’t tell anyone. I felt that my friends didn’t want to hear my problems and they wouldn’t understand I guess. I don’t know really, but it made everything worse. I couldn’t tell anyone what was going on in my head without feeling like a bother to

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