What's the point of screaming if no one gives a damn?
I took happiness by dragging a blade across my skin, it made me feel relief...

Self harm.
Little Mary doing it.
I was about to do much more.


6. Lies

The moment I open the door my mother barks at me.
"Where the hell do you think you've been, eh? I've had tea on the table for ages!"
"Mum I'm ill, and i missed the bus. I've got a slip from school- I fainted..." I say.
I hadn't missed the bus though. I had been at the chemists.
Buying blades, plasters, scar cream...
The thing you never think of when you start self harming is that you have to live with it for the rest of your life. The moment you pick up that match,  knife, blade or you start slapping yourself, that's it. Your addicted. It's like a drug. You live every moment of your life waiting for the next time you can inflict pain upon yourself. The next time you can have that little bit of happiness, relief as you watch your skin react. Then pain strikes. You spend all of your money buying plasters, bracelets, thick jackets. You make excuses, you have to lie to people and once you start you can't stop. You always feel tired because you stay up all night with your knife picking at your skin. You never wear shorts and you make excuses why you can't go to the beach. You worry- oh you worry so much. You worry it's going to be to hot to wear a jacket, that you won't be able to find your bracelets, that all your long sleeves shirts are in the wash. You worry that teachers will see the scars, that they will say something and then everyone will know, everyone will know you as the girl who cuts.
But the thing is, people don't know how hard it is to pick up a knife or blade and cut your own skin, to inflict that sort of damage on yourself. Just for that little moment of pleasure that's quickly gone and then you want to cut more, because you are addicted.
Like me.
It's a drug. 
And I'm addicted.

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