It’s hard to explain why I did it. To be honest,I don’t even know why. When everyone looks at me, they see a normal 16 year old boy who keeps his head up no matter what. But even the greatest heroes fall.
It happened in seventh grade. It was another day at school, everyone went to class, stayed quiet, did their work, the end. The last bell rang. I walked outside the front exit to meet my girlfriend, like I always had for the school year. It hit me with a sharp shock to see her kissing another guy. As you can imagine, I was sad. We talked about it, and the relationship ended. The breakup however was not the worst part. The worst part was what came after. After her and I split, the friends I had made went to her side to support her and her new boyfriend, leaving me alone, depressed, and with no one to talk to. I tried to fit my way back into the group of friends I once had, just to get rejected over and over again. I began to cry at night, because no one liked me, or would even go through the trouble to ask how I was. To be honest, I was depressed. I’ll admit it; I didn’t feel like doing anything anymore. I started failing my classes, I slept all day, and I wouldn’t talk to anyone.
More days went by and nothing got better, they still gave me dirty looks, like I was the bad guy somehow. I had enough. School ended and I quickly went home one day after school, walking instead of getting a ride from my friends. My parents wouldn’t be home for another hour, so I had time. Looking back on this choice I made, I regret it immensely. I went into the downstairs bathroom and shut the door. No one was home, but I gave me a weird sense of security, like shielding myself from everyone. I looked at myself in the mirror and stared at myself. I just stared. I grabbed the razor. The wrist would be too obvious, and I liked wearing t-shirts. I began analyzing my body like a doctor would a patient. The shoulder would be a good spot. I never wore tank tops, and I wouldn’t be taking my shirt off anywhere. I suppose I don’t have to swim anymore, or at least wear a shirt when I do. It didn’t hurt; it actually felt like I was running my finger across my skin. A long line of crimson red washed over my shoulder down my arm. It began to sting, but I didn’t care. Anything was better than having to deal with the strife at school. It got my mind off of it, but not for good. It wasn’t long until school came back around the next day. It wasn’t getting any better. I had the urge to do it again, just to get my mind off of everything. So I did, again, and again. Soon, I ran out of space on my shoulder, and moved down to my chest. It almost felt good, not how a massage feels, or a back scratch; more of a sigh of relief. I found myself in a never ending loop. I was addicted. School came by again, and I found myself getting used to it. There wasn’t anything I could do at this point except just let it happen. I sat down and waited for the bell to ring to release the kids into the school and let the crappy day begin.
“Are you okay?”

My eyes widened and looked up from my hands and saw a boy my age standing above me. All I could do was responding with a: Me?

“Yeah, you.”

I was caught so off guard I found myself stuttering just to find out what to say. No one ever started a conversation with me after every one of my so-called “friends” began to ignore me. He talked to me and asked how I was doing every day that week, until he asked if I wanted to hang out on the weekend. He saved me. I began to socialize more, making new and better friends who I still talk to today with. But I’ll never forget that boy, who is currently my best friend to this day. And I learned a valuable lesson during this time of my life. It’s worth hanging on, because everything gets better in the end. You just have to persevere through the pain. And I’m glad I did.