Why?

An awkward snippet of my parents and I's conversation.

I remember, specifically, when I was called upstairs from my room around one or two years ago.

My mom and dad were sitting on the couch, and my older sister was pacing awkwardly by the love seat, slowly drifting off to the sunroom where we kept the computers.

My dad had looked at me and asked, "Why do you cut yourself? What does that do?"

I went stiff and looked over at my sister, who had snitched on me for something that shouldn't have been a 'snitching situation'.

"I- I don't know"

I felt lightheaded, like I was seconds away from making the floor my new bed.

"Obviously you know," he said, my mom interrupted him, "Why did you do it, why are you doing it?"

My mom was always there for me, but I couldn't answer the question.

Why did I cut myself?

Perhaps it's to distract myself from the emotional pain inside, the hurt that makes me cry every night when I'm alone. But I didn't know how to answer them, and the awkward conversation lasted for ten minutes before my parents gave up and said I was free to go.

After that, I ran downstairs to my room... and cried.