Okay, so I love this project. I’m NOT an artist, but it doesn’t matter.
1) Basically, you get a bunch of markers. Any colors, all colors, whatever you want. I always made my purple or pink or any shade of blue.
2) Wherever you cut, you draw a butterfly. It doesn’t have to be you that draws it though, that’s the twist. You can have someone who means a lot to you or someone who just cares a lot about you, draw it.
3) YOU CANNOT CUT! While that butterfly is there, f you cut, you are killing a butterfly in real life. You CANNOT wash it off to cut.
I always loved these butterflies. You don’t need to cut, I know it seems easy to say, but you have to believe me. Take my hand and trust me when I promise you, you don’t need to cut.
1. When you feel like you want to cut, take a marker, pen, or sharpies and draw a butterfly on your arm or hand.
2. Name the butterfly after a loved one, or someone that really wants you to get better.
3. You must let the butterfly fade naturally. NO scrubbing it off.
4. If you cut before the butterfly is gone, you’ve killed it. If you dont cut, it lives.
5. If you have more than one butterfly, cutting kills all of them.
6. Another person may draw them on you. These butterflies are extra special. Take good care of them.
7. Even if you don’t cut, feel free to draw a butterfly anyways, to show your support. If you do this, name it after someone you know that cuts or is suffering right now, and tell them. It could help.
It was stupid. I opened Pandora’s Box. It started as a sort of dare. I had my whole goth phase in 6th grade. My “best friend” said I wasn’t goth if I didn’t cut. I did it just once, just to show her I could do it. As I began to cut, it was intensely painful. But whenever I got mad, I would cut anyway. I don’t really know if I regret it or not. But now I’ve got these scars on my arms for life.
I regret them sometimes. But they are a symbol of everything I’ve been though. The bullying, the fighting to get the help I needed, the sadness and the pain. I don’t feel weird when people look at them most of the time. I guess I start to get fidgety when they stare at them. Most of the time I’m pretty cool about people looking at them. They’re not as bad as they could be. I truly do think of my scars as beautiful. I got through a lot of things alone. And scars aren’t too different from a tattoo. I don’t really have a problem telling people why I would cut, or how I began. I don’t mind sharing my story. And if it helps anyone, I’ll have done my personal goal in this world. There are over 100 scars on my body. I know one day, any children I might have will look at my scars and ask “mommy, what are those?” And truthfully, that’s what hurts. I don’t think they’ll understand. Maybe when they hit their teenage years. But for now, I’m just taking it all in stride, day by day.
I’ve always been secretly selfish. If I want a pony, and you want a monkey, I’ll buy you the money. Even though I’ll want the pony more than anything in the world. Get it? t’s okay, I’m bad with words. I only have this blog to try to help people and show them they’re not alone. Anyways, as I grew up, I stopped being selfish mostly. Sure, what I really want most is to be happy. Most of my smiles are just awkward ‘I don’t know what else to do so I’ll sit here and smile’ kind of smiles. But if I could have ANYTHING for Christmas, no matter how impossible, I’d want my dad to be happy. I lost my mom when I was 15. Ironically, the same age she lost her mom. I know he misses her, and I know I remind him of her as much as I resent her. I know things are hard with money and children’s services involved. I know losing my grandpa and my mom took a toll on him. Having a daughter who constantly tried to kill herself and would walk around the house with these scars all over her only made him more depressed. Sometimes, that’s all I have left to stay alive for. My dad, he needs me. After all, he’s only still here for me and my brother. I don’t know what I’m going to do without him…
“I am stronger than the fear that is holding me back.”
As painful as this is for me to write, maybe it will help someone out there.
How did I survive? I got this adorable golden Syrian hamster. It wasn’t really planned. I went in the pet store just to look around like normal. Just like going to a little petting zoo. At that point, I decided I wanted a bunny. But as tradition, my family and I always looked at the hamsters first. I’m not sure why. Keep in mind, I was 15 at the time and this was 2 years ago. Hiding out at my grandmothers was lonely. It was always so quiet at night. I guess I wanted a bunny because I was just going to let it loose in the house and teach it how go out on the balcony to use the bathroom. But I put a finger to the glass of one of the hamster tanks. And this one little gold hamster put his tiny paw right on the glass in front of my finger. ‘This is the one!’ I screamed excitedly. On the line, the name ‘Alexander’ popped into my head. The lady at the desk needed me to fill out a form with his name, my name and address. And so it was. Not even 3 minutes into my care, and he already had a name. I remember about 3 days later, he seemed to be getting sick. Dry patches on matted fur. I used to go out every night, smoke weed, and come home at 2-3 in the morning, sometimes later. But I stayed with him until he was better. I took him out everyday, if only to hold him. I fed him the freshest fruits and veggies possible. The store near me stopped selling hamster food. I traveled 5 towns over, just so he would have the proper nutrition. Whenever I had anyone over, if they smoked, they could smoke on the balcony. I didn’t care if it was 50 below. No harm was going to come to my baby. As far as I was concerned, he came first. That year was probably the hardest year of my life. But my little Alex got me through it. Unfortunately, he died last February. I will always thank him for the lessons he brought with him. He taught me the true meaning of a mother son bond. I loved him as though I gave birth to the little guy. I needed someone to take care of. And he made it so enjoyable. He will always be my child.
Rest In Peace, Alexander ❤