I was sitting in the computer room, typing something up and my mom stomped in the room and started yelling "when I am on the phone, do not come in and start to talk to me when I am trying to talk to someone." I started to tell her that I was in here the whole time and that I didn't try to talk to her or anything. "Don't tell me that shit, you better straighten your fuckin attitude up or I swear, you're not going to want to see tomorrow. You only have one hour on that fuckin computer." she yelled back at me and stormed out of the room. I just sat there, amazed that she thought I was trying to talk to her when she was on the phone. I'm about to turn 15 years old, I know that I shouldn't do any shit like that and I know I wouldn't. I went into the kitchen to try to convince her that I was in the computer room the whole time and that I didn't say anything to her. But she didn't beleive me, and started putting me down...again and told me to get out of her sight. Also pretty much convincing me that I'm no good and just a...a pain in the ass. She's always telling me how selfish I am, and that I have a bad attitude..No matter what I do. Even if I try to fix it or something, I just get put down more. There's just no use in trying anymore. Feel like such a waste. Don't even deserve to live. I'm sure she thinks the same thing. No matter what I do for her...she still thinks that...I'm no good and useless. Useless as my father. That's not true though. He isn't like that at all. He works his ass off every single day for her and she doesn't seem to show any respect for that. I go in my room and sit on my bed, still amazed at what just happened. I sighed and looked around my room and I saw a razor blade on my dresser. I just shook my head and thought to myself..no..I can't do that...I can't let myself do that. I'll just hurt my friends even more. Even though I had told myself that and tried to convince myself, I just couldn't take my attention off it...I couldn't stop looking at it either. Finally, I got up and turned on the radio but no good songs were on. I got my creed cd "my own prison" and put it in my stereo. It also happened to be the most depressing cd that I have. I just stood there, listening to the lyrics and it made think about all the fights that my mom and I have had. How much she hates me, puts me down and and doesn't even want to see me. I got my notebook and a pen, figuring that this would be a good time to write another poem or something. I sure as hell was in the mood for it. I sat down on the floor and I started thinking about how I should start it. Then I got this flashback. I hate flashbacks. This was the time where I cut my arm the worst. It felt like I was really doing it again. I found the blade in my room and went into the bathroom for some reason and shut the door, and locking it. I just stood there in the middle of the room, feeling like I was about to cry. I held the blade to my arm and started to run it across my arm, going harder and deeper each time. I didn't really feel any pain, I was already so mixed up and confused and didn't even know what emotions I was really feeling so I didn't even really feel myself doing this. I stopped and looked at my arm. All I could really see were little red slits and I turned away and looked around the room. I couldn't beleive what I had just done. What was I going to do? What would I tell my friends? Should I even tell them? I didn't know what to think. I looked at my arm again and blood was starting to flow out of the little red slits. It was going down my arm, going to my wrist and some even dripped on my leg and even on the floor. I shook my head, and looked around my room. Realizing that I didn't cut myself, I only had a flashback and I sighed. I hated my life. I hated myself even more. I had this feeling inside me that no one cared what happened to me. No one cared if I cut myself. No one cared if I even killed myself. I didn't have anyone in my life to go to or anything. I didn't even really realize what I was thinking or anything. I looked up at my dresser and saw that razor blade sitting up there. I reached up to take it and just looked at it. I ran my fingers over it and I could still see some dried up blood from the last time I did this. I didn't have a clue of what to do. Didn't know if I should cut myself or not. It seemed so right. But I told a lot of people that I would stop. I felt like crying but for some reason I couldn't. It felt like my tears were locked up inside me. I dropped the blade and put my head in my hands and closed my eyes. Trying to decide what to do. I was standing there in front of my mirror, just staring into my own eyes. They seemed so lonely, empty and depressed. I didn't even realize what the the hell I was doing. I was holding a razor blade and I didn't even know why. I rolled my shirt sleeve up and was looking at my arm. I put the blade to my skin, sliding it across and going a little deep. I took it away and just stared at my arm. I watched the blood seep out and go down my arm a little bit. I opened my eyes and looked at my arm and realized that I had another flashback. This time it was the first time I cut myself and when I started drive myself into this deep hole. "god, I am losing my mind. I'm going crazy" I thought to myself and shook my head. I knew what the only way was to stop feeling like this and to stop these flashbacks. I couldn't even think and I reached for my blade and without pausing or anything, I just drove it into my arm and slid the blade across it. The blood was starting to come out and slide down my arm, I watched it and sighed. A sigh of relief and guilt. I watched it for a minute and got a couple tissues and held them there until the bleeding stopped and all I could do was sit there and stare at the wall until the bleeding stopped...and until I could get out of my room and talk to someone again.