Raise your hand if you’re an artist, my teacher says. So I raise my hand. I’m an artist. I make new art every day. At least once a day.
But I’ve never shown my artwork to anyone. My one friend has seen it, but she doesn’t like it. She says it’s bad art. I don’t think it’s bad art. It helps me express my true feelings that I keep hidden from everyone.
It helps me feel better. So I don’t stop. I do it everyday alone in my room. And then I hide it. I don’t want anyone to see. They would judge me and stare. I know they would. I also hide my art tools.
One day my teacher comes up to me and asks to see my art. I tell her I can’t show her. It’s too personal. She says ok and walks away.
When I get home I take out my art tool, a razor blade, and uncover my canvas. My arms. And I draw my picture. Cut my skin open. I uncover my other canvas. My legs and stomach and draw there too. Only this time I draw too much and I start to bleed out.
I knew this would happen eventually but my art helps me so I couldn’t stop. It’s the only thing that makes me feel better.
United States • 21 years old