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Why am I on This Page?
Copyright, Anonymous
...staring at all these pictures, fantisizing in my head about dragging a razor across my skin. I fell inlove with it all a while ago. I was thrown in and out of councoling, I was watched all the time by parents and friends. I did my best to hide my cuts, finding more discret places to cut. It wasnt enough, and i began starving myself. My mom forced me to eat, and i forced myself to throw up. I was now cutting and starving, and over eating and puking. I stopped cutting so much, and got myself caught in the middle of two eating disorders. It was easier to eat and throw up, cuz id get so hungry after a while. But i felt stronger if i could hold back from eating. so i would starve for as long as i could, than id eat a little something, go on a rampage, eating everything, and puke it all right back up. It was insaine. And i finally stopped a little while ago. All my wounds are healed. My weights back up, and i miss it all. Its wierd to say. I look at the pictures on here and i just remember the way it felt to cut, to watch the blood flow out and drip down my arm. I remember the feeling i'd get, just staring deep into the red puddles. Im happier now than i have ever been, but i want to go back. what the hell is wrong with me? I have this book and it has pictures i drew of all the cuts and burns i gave myself. it has information on this thing called "self mutilation" and writting and poems, and then it has my little food diary, and poems on that whole subject. I keep it, and i dont know why. its so important to me. I showed my room mate one time because i found out she was cutting herself a little. I started crying and showed her. I begged her not to do it. and she told me i was stupid because i still wanted to do it so bad. She said she could tell i loved it by my notebook. I hated myself for that. And i hate myself because im always going to miss it. Im always going to be tempted, and im always going to give in once in a while. Im always going to be embarressed by it, because no one understands it. Im always going to be asked what happened to my arms... What happened to my feet... what happened to my stomach... Im always going to be the person i used to be, at least just a little.