The Razor Blades

I sometimes wished I was normal. Normal hair, normal clothes...normal everything. I soon figured out "why should I be normal..when weird is even better?' When people hurt themselves I feel bad, because that used to be me. Once you start you can't stop, and that's what is going to kill you. When I used to cut myself, I couldn't just stop, not that I really wanted to at that time. My body needed it; craved it...craved it so much that it made my skin on fire and the only way to stop the burning was to cut away at my arms. I had my reasons for doing it, I just did.not.want.help. I did it when I started 5th grade, I had prepared for everyone to come and want to be my friend, and all that other fairy tale crap. No, I had disgusted and repulsed looks thrown at me like I was a piece of filth on the floor. I learned that Sagittarius' were supposed to be all optimistic, I am optimistic sometimes towards others, but when it comes to me..meh. Okay back on topic! I got caught with fresh wounds, when my (ex)best friend Daze began cutting too. Not deep like mine, but kinda like the scratches you get from a cat. We kept it a secret, I could have sworn she thought cutting was a joke, but I took it serious. The first time she did it in front of me, I was creeped out, because I was doing it too, but not in front of people. I vowed to stop mutilating myself; I didn't last long, the next week I was doing it all over again. The effects were wearing off, so I cut deeper and that special feeling came back. Daze was so stupid enough to color on her wounds, and the color stayed there. She was stupid to wear short sleeved shirts, against her slightly tanned skin. Her cousin seen it, her whole family seen it, her mum and cousin came over to my house and told my mum. She seen it, my brother seen it, even my dog seen it. Daze was so stupid, I wanted to hurt her in so many ways, for telling my secret. I even wanted to kill her, then kill myself, but I tried pushing those thoughts out of my head. They kept coming back, and for the first time ever...I was afraid of myself. Oh, and in place of my self harming issues, I wrote stories and took up sewing with my mum. Just something to get my mind off of it, and another way to get a chance to hang out with my only available parent. The key is to keep your hands busy, even if you're upset, because if you don't you'll fall back into that old habit.

 "Sometimes all it takes is a cut full of purpose, and you're hooked"