Self Harm, my storySelf harm...Oh is so beautiful, wonderful even. You feel the bade or the flame, or whatever and you just sigh in relief. Oh how fucking awesome is this? To become addicted to seeing your own blood. To come to need the pain to feel alright. You become like a chain smoker that needs his nicotine and without it, he's just a jumpy mess.But that is everyone else. I'm a cutter myself and the blade is so nice.The first cut is always the shallowest and over time, you go deeper and deeper; seeing how far you can go. Then you just dig and dig, needing to see how much blood can flow.But you can't forget the scars, that begin to appear. Over time it becomes a collection. At first you hide the scars; long sleeves for me. Then for some reason you tell someone, then some more people until you have a small group that knows. Why you tell? I don't know...Then you start getting help. Why? I don't know.But the scars are still there.And eventually you start getting better.But the scars are s
Self HarmI have an addiction.It is called Self-Harm.Self-harmers enjoy cutting, burning, and mutilating themselves. The term is widely misunderstood.We dont do it for the attention, we don't do it because we want to die.We do it for the high. For the rush and the initial "Woah" of the first cut or burn.We do it because it makes us feel better. Scientifically, the release of blood pumps adrenaline and endorphins through us. Which makes us happy.But for me, drawing a razor across my skin and seeing the blood flow, is an ecstacy. I love it, and I hate it. So much.At the same time.Seeing myself bleed is a way for my emotions to be let out. It's an escape. For those of you who don't understand self-harm, you could just say, "Oh, just stop it. Just stop. I'll take away all your razors and lighters and knives and cigarettes, Just quit. It isnt that hard."You're dumb.Self Harm is an ADDICTION.
Dear self harm,Dear self harm,I am writing to thank you for your help over the past few years. You have helped me through a lot of my problems throughout my life. But I'm not sure if I can go on seeing you.We met that one night a few years back in my bedroom. It was surprising how we just clicked like that. We're perfect for eachother. Whenever I was angry, you could always calm me down. Whenever I was upset, you'd replace my tears. Whenever I needed you, you were always there. You are my best friend. You are my hero. You are my saviour.But then our relationship started going badly. I began to start using you. I insisted on you being there even when I didn't need you. I made you come here late at night when I was alone in my room. When I realised you could be there, I abused you and your friendship. I made you do things to me that you didn't want to do to make me feel better about myself. But now I want that to end, as do you.So this is my last letter to you. I don't think I will ever be able to