I bleed just to feel alive.

My self harm story. And why you shouldn't start.

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1. The Start.

The first time I ever picked up a knife to use it for a wrong reason was when I was around 10 or 11. I had been going through so much that past year, I finally got sick of all of it and just snapped.I was bawling tears. I looked across my bedroom at my new pocket knife I got as a gift, it called me. I walked over, picked it up and opened it. The shiny, sharp blade glimmered in the sunlight coming through my window. My first thoughts were "Where do I cut first?", "What if someone sees?" and "Will I regret this later?". I lifted a leg on my bed pulled up my gym shorts, pressed the blade to my skin.. I hesitated a little but I managed to pull through. In a quick motion I sliced deep into my skin. It took me a few moments to comprehend what I did to myself. Blood was rushing out but yet I felt a sick sense of pride. I did it... I never thought I could do it. I think that's where the pride came from. That I actually didn't bitch out for once. I repeated this a few more times. Right then I was done it felt like for 5 minutes that all the stress and sadness was lifted off. And all I could focus on the fresh, scarlet cuts on pale white skin.

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