I’ve had a crazy life. But I’m not bitching, I’ve been beat while growing up but I bet a lot of kids my age went through that. Correct me if I’m wrong. But then it went from that to people I love betraying me. To getting in fights a lot. I’m a lesbian and I got a lot of shit for that expecially when I was in school, my stepdad tried to rape me and my mom still stayed with him. Go fig. I lived in my car for 2 months till it broke down, now I’m back there. Still it’s not why I’m here. I started to cut when I was 12. I hid it till I was 16, almost 17. I got really bad it was like my one and only good getaway. I couldn’t go to anyone because they all just hurt me. And I cried so much I couldn’t cry anymore. I needed to be strong because all I had was me! But then the cutting got so bad and life just seemed to go downhill more and more. And I got to a point where I would cut all up my legs and arms; all in one night. And I still didn’t think it was enough. I have my scars and I wont lie, I still do it to this day. Well, one day I tried to OD on pills and I mixed 5 different bottles of pills which just fucked up my stomach because my parents found out and I went to the hostpital. They were going to let me just go home after that. But they saw my cuts and threw me in the hospital right then and there. I will tell you right now it sucked. Only thing there that is close to helpful are the other patients that where there just like me. They cut off contact with the ones I really wanted around. I think it taught me how to hide my feelings better. They got mad if I talked to any one about that or my sexuality. I made some friends. We exchanged numbers, even though we weren’t supposed to. But well, when I got out, I didn’t cut for about a month. But I was still very depressed but I fought. Then I cut and now I’m where I am now. Fighting with my life. Trying to deal with where I’m at. I feel alone a lot but I’m fighting. I cut, but not as much, which is progress. I’ll tell you now I hate it when my friends or someone I love hurts themself in any way or gets hurt at all. And I know that’s hipocritical but I think that’s why I’m fighting now. I hope that you all know that it’s not good. Yeah, I do it. And when I look at my scars in one way I’m proud of them, others I’m embarrased. I hope my story helps at least a little.