Seven Days

That's great! Stay strong.

Cutting... Seems addicting. I'm still a kid, and I sort of used to cut. It was really stupid of me. It was unpleasant at first, but after doing it a few more times, it was actually sort of nice. There was a time when I couldn't stand not cutting for at least a day. I remember pinching my arm during class or scraping at it with a house-key. I'm really immature, I know. It became some sort of habit for me. It was an odd habit that took longer to overcome than start. I started to find things that were sharper, from scratching myself with a pen edge, to a scissor, to getting a screwdriver and using a sharpener's blade to cut. (Which was sharper than I first anticipated. ) I didn't want to die, but I cut my arms just for the heck of it. I don't know why, it just was. Then I realized it was harder to stop than I thought it was. It wasn't a hobby, no. A hobby, I can stop if I wanted to. It was something I couldn't really stop all that easily. My friends that knew about it thought I was attention-whoring, or at least, I think they thought that. I tried to stop since I knew my friends got upset and mad whenever I did it.

It annoys me that some people think self-harm is cool. That pisses me off. It is not. Not at all. Not in the slightest. It is not "fun." Sigh.

It's odd, though, even now that I've quit, whenever I'm upset, I want to rip my arm open from the elbow to the wrist and bleed out. My mind's weird like that, even though I've already stopped and I never really cut deep enough to be dangerous. Maybe I wanted to give cutting deep a try but quit too early on to realize it.

I guess it really was an addiction.

Thanks for the poem. And again, stay strong!