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This thread was created on July 18, 2008

Scars

Topic ID: 33233

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akatori
Novice

Gender:

Age: 15
Joined: 15 Jul 2008
Posts: 5
Reviews: 2

300 Points

Posted: Fri Jul 18, 2008 6:19 am Post subject: Scars

This was first posted by me on fictionpress.com under penname: Akatori-The Late Night Writer. All of this is cut and paste, so keep in mind I might be aiming certain A/N to fictionpress readers. Just telling you so as not to confuse you. I wrote this story based on personal account. Please, I would like to hear your opinions but I would really not appreciate any reviews that involve,"Oh that's so gross.", "Let me help you", "I'm so sorry", "please get help and go see a counselor", "your looking for attention." Please, this is a RECORD of events in a part of my life. Don't comment on the topic, please, it's just what happened. Chapter One -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I sat on the other side of my door with my arm held out. I had just found exactly what I was looking for: Something extremely sharp. A little box of razor blades, you know, the ones they give you at the hotels. These blades for some reason were just straight pieces of sharp metal. One sharp edge on each end. I guess if you actually wanted to put them in your shaving razor, you would have to fold them and put them in like that somehow. That wasn’t the reason I wanted them. I placed the edge on my arm. My hand was shaking. I slowly slid it across. For a minute, I didn’t feel anything. Then there was a sharp pain. I kept sliding until I felt that I went far enough. I closed my eyes and lifted the razor up. What I saw was beautiful. There was a perfectly straight red line on my arm. You couldn’t have gotten it straighter if you fused me to a ruler. Perfectly round beads of blood lay still in a neat little row. I wiped them off. They appeared again, insisting that they stay. I smiled. I don’t usually use old words like this, but the one thing I was thinking was, “Glorious. Absolutely glorious.” I went through my closet and found a black sweater to cover up the mark. Running downstairs, I kissed my mother and went off to school. When I got out, it was raining. This made me smile, because rain is extremely refreshing. Of course, my dad, being all protective as he is, followed me as soon as the rain started and decided to give me a ride to school. I opened the car door and it slammed into my nose. I put a tissue over it and looked in the rearview mirror. A perfectly straight line was on my nose, with perfectly round beads of blood laid neat in a row. Of course, this time it was on accident, and if it was on purpose it would never, ever be on my face. But all the same, I still thought only one thing; “Glorious. Absolutely glorious.” -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Hey, Kelsey!” Kelsey quickly pulled down her sleeve and turned to see her friend Nami coming towards her. “Oh, hi Nami.” “Come on! We’re going to be late for gym!” Kelsey started walking like nothing was out of the ordinary, but really her mind was racing. P.E. uniforms had short sleeves. She pulled down her sweater sleeve awkwardly as they walked. In the locker room, Kelsey hid in the corner to change and quickly slipped out of the door before anybody else. She held her arm in the necessary spot and sat in the middle of the gym next to Nami. Cones were set up in a circle around the floor. Nami groaned. “Oh, great. We’re doing relays!” Kelsey sighed. “I don’t understand why the heck they won’t let us go out. Rain would keep us cooled down during class… what’s so bad about it?” Nami laughed. “The preps probably don’t want to slip in the mud and mess up their hair.” Kelsey grinned. “Hair or nails?” “Either. They’re both dead skin, anyway. How funny would it be if the preps were smart? I can picture it now; ‘I broke a hardened piece of growing enamel over my finger!’ ‘Oh no, the dead skin cells sprouting from my head are all greasy! Ick!’” Kelsey laughed. The teacher gave them a look. “We’re doing relays today…” the class groaned and the teacher rolled her eyes. “Relays on scooters, but if you’re going to have that attitude, we can always just run a 400 meter…” everyone sat up straight and shut up. The teacher smiled. “All right, then. Get into groups of two…” Nami and Kelsey sat down together and waited for the rules. “So, one person is going to be sitting on this scooter, and another will be pushing them by the shoulders. When you get to the halfway mark, you’ll switch places. Is this clear? Good. Now lets get started…” Nami and Kelsey walked over to the starting point. Kelsey of course was holding her arm and trying to look natural about it. She got on the scooter and then the whistle sounded. It was scarier than it looked but it was really fun. When they got to the halfway point, Kelsey got up and it was her turn to push Nami. She let go of her arm for a minute but then quickly turned it in towards her so that nobody could see the mark.
_________________ Secret super special ninja art from the Village Hidden in the Sound.... DROP-A-PIANO-ON-YOUR-HEAD-NO-JUTSU!

xavia-finch
Junior Writer

Gender:

Age: 18
Joined: 17 Jul 2008
Posts: 29
Reviews: 27
Country: AUSTRALIA
300 Points

Posted: Fri Jul 18, 2008 11:16 am Post subject: Re: Scars

I'm not judging you, but if you want people to comment on your writing and not the subject matter you could just pretend its fictional. Everything we write, fiction or non-fiction, is somehow based on our own life experiences.

ButterFlyInk
Writer

Gender:

Age: 18
Joined: 21 Jun 2008
Posts: 77
Reviews: 8
Country: Canada
300 Points

Posted: Fri Jul 18, 2008 12:44 pm Post subject:

I loved it. It was beautifully written,and it was captivating. I know the subject matter, so it doesn't bother me. I'm not a moderator or anything but, you'll probably be told this so.... keep the 2:1 ratio, two reviews to one submission
_________________ “I have great faith in fools - my friends call it self-confidence”- Edgar Allen Poe Is a hippopotamus really a hippopotomus or just a really cool opotamus?- Mitch Hedberg

ButterFlyInk
Writer

Gender:

Age: 18
Joined: 21 Jun 2008
Posts: 77
Reviews: 8
Country: Canada
300 Points

Posted: Fri Jul 18, 2008 12:48 pm Post subject:

There was a perfectly straight red line on my arm. You couldn’t have gotten it straighter if you fused me to a ruler. Perfectly round beads of blood lay still in a neat little row. I wiped them off. They appeared again, insisting that they stay. I smiled. I don’t usually use old words like this, but the one thing I was thinking was, “Glorious. Absolutely glorious.” That has got to be my favorite part, it paints a clear picture in my mind. P.s. I accidentally pressed submit on my last post instead of preview.
_________________ “I have great faith in fools - my friends call it self-confidence”- Edgar Allen Poe Is a hippopotamus really a hippopotomus or just a really cool opotamus?- Mitch Hedberg

Tally
Novice

Gender:

Age: 17
Joined: 12 Jul 2008
Posts: 11
Reviews: 4
Country: London, UK
300 Points

Posted: Fri Jul 18, 2008 3:05 pm Post subject:

I loved the honesty of this piece, because often when people don't really understand something they over dramatise it and it lacks meaning, but in this case you've done a brilliant job and I could believe in it. I liked the repetition of the, "Glorious. Absolutely, glorious." I felt it pulled it together nicely.
_________________ "It's a beautiful thing, the destruction of words." - Orwell, 1984. icon by cherry blossoms

-Save-Ferris-
Senior Writer

Gender:

Age: 14
Joined: 26 Jul 2007
Posts: 192
Reviews: 112
Country: Scotland
300 Points

Posted: Fri Jul 18, 2008 3:49 pm Post subject:

Hmmm I just wondered if you planned on writing anymore on this. It really felt like it was going somewhere and I want more, MORE!

But yes anyway, I would assume if you wrote more you would explain why this character is doing this to themselves? Other wise the whole peice is slightly pointless. The character has to overcome something.

I got sorta confused when you switch from first person to third person.

Anyway I thought you had some great description.

Quote:

placed the edge on my arm. My hand was shaking. I slowly slid it across. For a minute, I didn’t feel anything. Then there was a sharp pain. I kept sliding until I felt that I went far enough. I closed my eyes and lifted the razor up.

This made me wince! Which is great!

Quote:

There was a perfectly straight red line on my arm. You couldn’t have gotten it straighter if you fused me to a ruler. Perfectly round beads of blood lay still in a neat little row. I wiped them off. They appeared again, insisting that they stay. I smiled. I don’t usually use old words like this, but the one thing I was thinking was, “Glorious. Absolutely glorious.”

This was my favourite bit, the "fused to the ruler" part added a sense of light heartedness to it and showed that the character's life is just completely over the top and mellow-dramatic.

Good job (:

akatori
Novice

Gender:

Age: 15
Joined: 15 Jul 2008
Posts: 5
Reviews: 2

300 Points

Posted: Tue Aug 19, 2008 3:33 am Post subject: Chapter Two

I'm really sorry I hadn't posted the second chapter sooner... I've been preoccupied with other writing and the like, I completely forgot. I was happy to see that people reviewed, I didn't expect many people to, and more people reviewed this story than I thought would. Thanks! xavia-finch, I do appreciate your input very much. One of the main reasons I made it clear that this happened to me was because I didn't want any readers who did in fact cut, bruise, or burn to look at this and think that I was writing about something I had never experienced. Actually, (like I said this was posted on a different site first) I was able to talk to some people who went through the same thing because I mentioned that Scars was a true account. I am glad you posted your review- I do think I came off as a bit cynical when I basically said "don't call me emo or i'll cut off your bloody feet and stick them on your head", and I'll keep your advice in mind for later stories. Butterflyink, thanks a lot for your review! I'm really glad you liked it! Yes, and thank you for the advice, also... I forgot about that rule. It's lucky I came back around a month later so that enough reviews came, eh? I'm glad you liked my imagery... frankly, I didn't make that up just for the story, those are my exact thoughts that were going through my head at the time in context. Really, I was really happy when I read that you liked that part. Tally, I'm glad you think it seems real-it is in fact real, and I try my best to potray that in the story. Also, whenever I dare to use repetition I get... self-concious about it? I can't say I'm very good at it at all, but I'm glad to hear that I did it correctly this one time. -Save-Ferris-, for one I love your penname, I just have to tell you that. "When Cameron was in Egypts laaaaaand..... let my Cameron goooooooo...." ha I love that movie. Anyway, back on topic. The story is in fact "finished", or was finished, and by now I'm just copying and pasting the chapters as the reviews come. I do plan on writing more, though, so this version will eventually around chapter five swerve in a different direction than the original that I posted on fictionpress. I'm glad you want to see more, because here it is! Well, the reason that Kelsey is cutting is because obviously, she's depressed. About what, exactly? I would just make a broad statement and say "life", but specifically the fact that she feels empty. I failed to put this into the story, but specifically what Kelsey is depressed about is that she believes she has no personality. Everyday she finds that everything she does is some characteristic of someone else, not her. She fears that, after being around so many people and adopting different pieces of other's personalities, she has lost her own personality in the process and is just a hybrid of her friends. Feeling like you have no personality is aweful, because it feels like you simply... aren't. There's no point in living a life that's not yours. To distract herself from the pain she feels, she starts to bruise herself by hitting her arm with a large book until her arm turns black and blue. I didn't write about this part in the story, only the part after, when she decides bruising doesn't satisfy her enough, so she cuts. The physical pain and minor thrill and terror of being wounded temporarily distracts her from emotional pain. Believe it or not, this isn't a psycological spite. When you cut yourself, the pain releases "endorphines", which give you temporary ecstasy, sort of like getting high. I didn't actually know the science behind this until after I wrote the story. I'm glad that my style of writing gives you a good sense of the story, too. That's what I'm aiming for! The following responses in bold text are my responses to reviews I got for the story on fictionpress. I suggest reading them before you read the chapter, because it might give you some new insite. Also, as I explain in a response to a fictionpress review, I had changed the perspective of the story. At the beginning of each chapter, there will be a cutting expirience told from Kelsey's POV in 1st person. The rest of the story will be told in second person, as if you were seeing the event through Kelsey's eyes. I know second person is tricky, and I really can't tell if I'm good at pulling it off, so I would especially like to hear your thoughts on that. A/N: Thanks for all your reviews. I'm surprised that anybody is reading this, but I'm happy that you are. I've been typing this up for a while... kind of a diary in fiction layout, you could say, and I finally decided that I should post it. jblover850, I can't tell you whether or not I've stopped, because I honestly don't know what you mean by "stop". i.e. cancer isn't technically "cured" until five years after it disapears. So, I haven't been doing it for a period of time, but that period hasn't been very long. I don't know if I'll start up again (I hope I don't) so I can't say that I've stopped, but I can say that I've been doing a whole lot better and there is a high chance I won't ever do this to myself again. Thanks for your concern. Other than telling me it's gross and stuff, I do appreciate it when you kindly ask if I'm okay. My Atomic Garden, I really liked your review. I'm glad you don't think it's overdone... it would mean my life is over done (haha). I really do make an effort to write these down-to-earth stories, so I thought why not start with my own story? Averybarbarian, I do recognize any self mutilation as harmful as cutting. I know what you're talking about, I started out picking. Then pinching, then bruising (hitting myself repeatedly with a big book until I got bruises the size of my fist on each arm) and then cutting. There's obviously a problem which each one... picking is self-mutilating. It may not hurt as much, but like you said, it's mostly caused by a hate of perfection, which both you and I seem to have. Pinching is caused by this and the desire for pain so as to distract you from inner pain. Bruising is more intense and more painful than pinching, and I found that rather than distracting you, it's kind of annoying because your arms go numb. Cutting... the pain is satisfying, as is seeing the blood. That's why it's probably one of the most dangerous forms, because you get "high" off of the pain and the sight of blood. I've heard of burning, where you burn your skin to feel pain, but I've never tried that. That sounds terrible as well. Before each chapter I'm putting an expirience from the cutting itself in first person so that you can see it through my eyes. I'm not very good at writing stories with dialogue that are in first person, though. However, third person is rather uneffective, so from now on, the sections after the cutting expiriences (after the words in italics) are going to be told in the least used perspective, second person. That way you can see what's happening through my eyes as if you WERE my eyes. fortuna scriptor, you hit the nail right on the head. When people tell you that you have to stop, it makes you want to do it more because you already know that they don't understand you. I'm glad you think my writing has a natural effect and yes, I will continue this story for a while. I'm glad you like it. Your review made me very happy. My family was in the other room, laughing together and watching TV like we always do on Sundays. I used to look forward to it, even if I did roll my eyes and say that family time was stupid, I liked it. Today I told them I wasn’t feeling very well and went up to my room early. I searched around for my pain reliever… my razor. Dumped it out of the drawer, onto my hand, just staring at it for a while. I had already used it once, and I remember someone saying that if you put dirty metal in a position where the bacteria could get into you, you might get AIDS. I didn’t think that you could get AIDs from your own blood, but even so I disinfected it with alcohol… you couldn’t see any blood on it because of how perfectly it had sliced through the skin. I guess you could call me a bit paranoid, and you would ask, “If you’re so worried about getting AIDS, then why are you hurting yourself anyway?” I don’t know. Shut up. I placed the razor on my wrist. I glanced at it, then hesitated. I wondered if I was really willing to do this. I started sweating, and trying to convince myself that if I did, I could end all the pain. Sure, people I knew might be a little sad, throw a funeral, bury me in a cemetery, sit Shiva for a few days, but really, they would get over it. They would be able to go on. But I can’t go on. I can’t get over it. I pressed a corner of my razor into my wrist, getting prepared. I saw a big bead of blood ooze out of the small cut. Then another, and another. I realized it didn’t take much for that part of you to bleed you out until you died. I got freaked out and ran to the medicine cabinet, quickly pressing some gauze on it. Fifteen minutes later, I lifted the gauze. The cut wasn’t that big, so it had stopped quickly and there was no need for stitches. I sighed in relief and took up the blade again, this time cutting away from the danger zone. It soothed my too-fast pulse, seeing that perfect line, and for a minute I forgot about what I had just done. But just for a minute. I didn’t forget… I still haven’t… that day when I didn’t finish it. That day I showed my true cowardice… I was too cowardly to finish it. Or was I too brave? You walked quickly through the halls, your mind far from where it was supposed to be. Someone was calling your name, and it wasn’t until the fifth time they yelled it did you finally snap out of your thoughts and turn around. Leslie was panting and glaring at you. “Kelsey… ARE YOU DEAF?! I SERIOUSLY LIKE, CALLED YOUR NAME TEN TRILLION TIMES!” You let out a small laugh. Leslie grinned. You two started walking to class together. Leslie had noticed that you had been kind of out of it for the past few weeks, so she spoke up. “Kelsey, is something wrong?” You glanced up at her and shook your head quickly. “No, nothings wrong. I’m perfectly fine… just… overwhelmed with school work?” you responded, hoping you could shrug off her question. Leslie sighed. “Ah, aren’t we all?” Her worried look came back. “Is it because of your grandpa?” she asked. You gave her a funny look and shook your head. People don’t get depressed just because their grandpa dies… it has to be either for a reason a whole lot bigger than that, or for no reason… Leslie kept talking. “Because, I know you two were really close and you talked about how he was going to take you on a trip to Washington this fall…” You were barely listening to her. It’s true, you and your grandpa were very close, and his death hit you hard, but he had been sick for a while. You knew that wasn’t the reason you were feeling so terrible. You had been so down lately, and so obsessed with… that thing… that you hadn’t thought about your grandpa in weeks. People don’t get depressed if their grandparent dies. It just doesn't work that way. Leslie was looking at you. You snapped back to the real world. “Ah… what?” you asked. Leslie gave you a funny look. “Kelsey, I just asked you a question.” “Oh, sorry. What was it?” “Do you feel okay?” she asked. You nodded your head and put on a fake smile for her. Leslie frowned. Damn. She knows you too well. “Really, Leslie, I’m fine…” “You know, Kelsey? Sometimes if something’s really bothering you, it’s better to tell at least one person. If you keep it inside you, it hurts more.” she tells you. You flinched at Leslie’s words. She has a point. You knew that Leslie had some pain in her life, but she was able to get over it so well. How does she do that…? You thought about telling her… She’s been through something like this before… she wouldn’t judge you, and she would never tell anyone. You sighed, prepared to speak. Then you found yourself sweating and your pulse beating too quickly. You motioned for Leslie to follow you into the girls bathroom. She shrugged. “Whatever. Just letting you know, if it’s important that nobody hears, you better hope that nobody’s in the bathroom. I’m not going into a stall with you…” You nodded and she followed. You tried to say something, but you couldn’t. You felt like you were going to puke. You rolled up your sleeve and held it out to her. There were three red lines. Leslie gasped and looked at you. You shook your head, still unable to speak, and dragged her out of the bathroom. When you were out, Leslie whispered one word to you. “Why?” she asked in a small voice. You managed to spit the words out in a slurred speech. “It… it kind of… kind of helps relieve pain…” “Well, I know that, but… why?” she pressed. You looked at your feet. “I… nothing else works…” “But why do you feel like this?” “I…I… that’s the scary thing… I don’t actually… know.” you told her, feeling a lump rising in your throat. You could NOT cry. Leslie hugged you. “I won’t tell anyone, and I won’t tell you that you need to stop unless I think it’s getting too out of hand.” she told you. You nodded gratefully and you both went off to homeroom. A/N: Remember that all names and places have been changed, so my name isn't Kelsey and my friend's name isn't Leslie. Said "Leslie" probably isn't reading this because most likely she doesn't know about my account on here. I don't care if she does see it, of course, because I can probably trust her with a lot of things. It's great to have someone who understands you, and I'm very grateful for "Leslie" who has probably been the only one of my friends who actually can cheer me up when I'm like this. She's been the sole initiator in helping me get through this. Screw my counselor, "Leslie" is the one I give the credit to. Okay, that was probably very boring for you people to hear about me gush about my friend, but I had to.
_________________ Secret super special ninja art from the Village Hidden in the Sound.... DROP-A-PIANO-ON-YOUR-HEAD-NO-JUTSU!

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This thread was created on July 18, 2008

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