Copyright, Paul

I’m a fifteen year old boy called Paul, who has been self harming for the last year. I started self harming last January. It all started when my parents started to hit me. It seemed like they didn’t want me in their life so I thought why not slit my wrists. I know I will do two today, no wait, this is making me feel better, maybe another six will help. And it did, but then it still carried on the hitting at home, the bullying at school, the name calling, all the abuse. By then I had cuts on my stomach and arms. In February I first tried to commit suicide. It was that bad I couldn’t cope. Instead of slitting my wrists again I decided to hang myself. It was all good because I could feel myself dying but then my rope broke so I fell to the ground. So I didn’t do it again that night. And then I wrote a suicide note and put it in my drawer. I forgot about it. Then in March my parents found it an we talked, but they didn’t want to help me out with it. Soon after that I met this girl named Kat who really cares for me and understands what I go though. She has helped me out a lot over the last year and she has helped me to stop self harm, but I do it still and she knows that, but it’s not always with a blade because two weeks ago I hit my head on a desk and knocked myself in a history lesson because I was so depressed. Still to this day I am depressed because I have depression and stuff but the main thing is I have a person that cares.

If anyone wants to talk to me, add me or e-mail me on

Kill my Pain

Copyright, Paul

Cutting kills my pain. The people around me are always putting me down. First I am to skinny and now I am to fat. Fat every day of my life. I have to sit and hear my so called friends tell me how fat and overweight I am. Are you all really so sad and careless to your fellow man or is it that it makes you feel better about yourselves? Are you really so insecure you think I can take it, it’s OK, good old Paul can take it. Well, guess what, it bothers me, it makes me sit at the end of my bed with my best friend my razor. I sit there cutting my arm. The deeper and the more blood the better I feel. As I sit and watch the blood trickle down my arm I feel the pain just wash away. See, my razor is my painkiller and cutting kills my pain.


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