Copyright Bekah

I was sitting on my bedroom floor, I couldn’t believe what had just happened. I felt horrible, but I was unable to cry. For some reason there was a needle sitting next to me, I think I had been sowing something. On an impulse I picked it up and scratched it along my arm until I drew blood. I did this four or five more times until I had a cluster of decent sized cuts on my arm. I watched the blood flow down my arm and for a little while I felt better. I had never realised how much physical pain could relive emotional pain. That was just the beginning. I don’t think you can truly understand until you have intentionally hurt yourself. I am not saying this is a good thing, I regret it every day. The life of a “cutter” is not a happy one. You are always trying to hide your scars and fresh cuts. You constantly think about cutting, covering up cuts, and being discovered. It becomes your whole life. I don’t really know what drove me to hurt myself for the first time but it started a vicious cycle, on that I am still trying to escape.


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