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‘Yet another bad day’ I thought, climbing the stairs and walking into my bedroom I got undressed, washed my face and picked up my weapon, before climbing into bed.
Tonight my weapon was my metal nail file. Stupid huh?
I grabbed the remote for my CD player and on came the beautiful calming sound of Darren Hayes. I laid back on my pillows, weapon in hand,
I picked at the scabs on my right hand with my fingernails before picking a place on my arm and drawing a star with the pointy end on the nail file, on it. I turned the nail file over, so that the file was next to my skin, I rubbed it hard up and down my arm, making a painful, large, red mark.
I stopped, ‘why was I doing this to myself’ before I’d given myself chance to answer I was walking across my room, to my desk, I picked up my scissors and got back into bed.
I opened the scissors and stopped again ‘surely my day hadn’t been that bad, had it? Ok there was the teasing, bulling, I suppose you could call it, but I’d got used to that by now. About 4 different people had bullied me in the last 6 years, and there had been more before that! There was Eddie, though, was it him again? I’d fancied Mike since I’d started secondary school, 4 years ago, and I made no secret of the fact, I had at first, but after it got out there was no point, I was quite open about my feelings now. Then there was my ‘mates’ who had, again, left me on my own, surprise, surprise. I was getting used to that as well, it had gone on for so long.
The track on my CD changed, ‘I miss you’ began to play.
I pressed the blade of the scissors against my skin, just on that red mark, and moved it up and down, only about a centimetre, right on the star.
It stung as I broke the skin, I spot of blood rose out of the cut, I wiped it away putting the scissors back under my pillow. I felt better now. The pain of finding out Mike had a new girlfriend, my best friend, who had always sworn to me that she hated him, had subsided. For now at least.
I walked to school alone the next morning. I walked into the classroom and everyone turned to stare. My mate, Louise, almost ran over to me. “We’ve got tickets” she screamed “Row B. on month tomorrow”
“Great” I told her, walking back out of the back out of the room. I couldn’t bare it this morning. I walked down the corridor to the girl’s toilets.
I locked myself in a cubical and got my scissors out of my bag.
I went to cut myself but I couldn’t, I couldn’t let Mike and his girlfriend get to me.
At that moment, Jo, my ex-best mate, walked in. “You Ok” she asked
“Yeah, I’d be better if I’d piss off though,” I yelled. I didn’t mean to, I just did, my anger at what she’d done to me came to a head. I dug the scissor blade into my arm, missing the main artery by a millimetre. I screamed. Blood was running freely from my arm, I grabbed some toilet roll and put it on the cut squeezing my arm, trying to get the blood to stop. Eventually it did, I closed my eyes in relief, but quickly reopened them, as when I closed my eyes all I could see was Mike with Jo, sat on his knee, kissing. It made me feel sick, just thinking about it.
Over the next month my life improved, Mike and Jo split up, I wasn’t left out and no one really bullied me, there was the occasional incident but mainly life was good. For the first time in years, I felt wanted.
Soon it was the big night, concert night, the night I’d been waiting for, the night when I was going to see Darren Hayes, live and in the flesh.
We got to the concert early and quickly found our seats, right in the middle, row B.
At about 8:30 the man himself appeared on stage, everyone screamed. There he was just metres away, I screamed again with the crowd. His hair was short and he was wearing jeans, a tight white T-shirt, and his trademark sneakers.
The music began and I lost my mind to the music, for the first time in ages I listened to the words, I sang danced and had a really good time, it was fantastic.
About half way through his performance the music stopped and he began to speak. He talked for 10 minutes about working your way through your problems. He was right, cutting myself wasn’t the answer. I had to talk, I had to tell someone.
That night, when I got home, I went to my favourite place, cyber-space. A place I could be alone, yet surrounded by people, I could forget my problems and be someone else.
My first port of call was the Darren Hayes BBS. I signed in and selected ‘new post’. I told them about the concert and about how amazing Darren was etc. then I told them about the real me. The shy, nervous little girl, who had been bullied since she had started school, the person who, more than anything, wanted to fit in, about how my dad had left and my mum ignored me, about how unhappy I was and how I’d turned to cutting myself.
I got dozens of replies, no one ever really replied to my posts, most dropped like a rock, but this time was different, I had support, advise, help. People PM’d me, saying ‘if I ever needed to talk, they were always here’. I had real friends, and I was happy.
With the help of 20 or 30 complete strangers and a famous popstar, I’d worked my way through my problems. I stopped cutting myself and started to see a counsellor. I was free, free from bullies, free from Mike and free from loneliness. I made friends.
Music had helped me, maybe it can help you to.
© 2004 HWilks Savagewriting