Copyright, Tessali

I never knew my real father, but the closest thing to it is my step dad, and he’s awesome. But of course there is always that question as to whether he loves me, and if he tries to treat me differently. Ever since I was old enough to throw bull shit at him for things like this I did, until I realised, I didn’t have to throw that at him anymore to be in control of things going on in my life. I was fourteen and things were really bad. Drugs and all, I was failing, and I had been orally raped. Things just weren’t going my way. So whenever possible, I used a knife at first to my forearm. Although I have never thought about suicide, my cuts have been getting deeper and deeper, especially after I found that razor blades are much more effective. It’s getting to the point where I have to switch arms every other week because there is no more room on the other arm. I once had to move down to my hands because both arms were full of cuts already. Lately, I have toned it down a bit, and I’m not using drugs anymore, but I still enjoy a cut or two every day. Cutting is a dirty habit, and I am trying to stop, but once I went two weeks without cutting, and when I felt urges, I got shaky, dizzy, paranoid, and almost passed out because I had no control. So right then and there, I got my shaving razor and started pealing the blade off. At that second, I felt better because I knew that soon, I would be OK again. If anyone has any suggestions, please e-mail me.


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