Nobody listened

I remember when I was in year 12 at boarding school.
I was distressed, scared, grieving already for the prospect of leaving Kenya and all I knew.
I was angry one night, when a friend, I wanted so much to care for me, didn't come and find me to ask me to walk to the movie with her.
I rubbed my knuckle against the concrete plastered wall next to my bed until it bled.

That was the start of the cutting - a blunt swiss army knife, my tool... so I never did too much damage.
A couple of my friends knew - and one went with me to a teacher to tell him I was feeling suicidal and cutting.
He gave me a form to fill out.....
I gave it back, filled out...
It was in the last week of term and we left with our families for holidays.

I was petrified my parents would find out how distressed I was.
I wrote a story about my pain.
There was something cathartic about that.
I've never shown it to anyone.

When I went back to school, I met that teacher walking around the school grounds.
I said, "I'm okay now".
He never followed anything through.
My isolation was increased even more.

I was a model student.
High grades
Active in sports
Quiet and well behaved
No one listened.

I wonder what difference it would have made to my life if there had been some intervention then???
I still cut sometimes.