i never meant to hurt anyone. i didn’t do this to scare people. i did it to help me deal with what was going on inside me.

i never cut deep enough to break the skin. they were always scratches. sometimes they almost broke the skin but they never actually bled. but when i found out that my best friend was cutting i couldn't say that anymore. i cut my wrists three times; and bled. the point of cutting for me was never to die, it was always to help myself stop thinking about what was hurting my heart and to make my brain think about what was hurting my body. so once i started to bleed, i got scared. i cleaned the cuts and put pressure on them to make them stop bleeding. i wrapped my arms up in gauze and went to bed. i thought about what i had done. i didn't feel bad. i didn't feel scared. i felt good. i knew i wanted to help my friend, but i also knew cutting wasn't going to help her. i talked to her and she was scared for me. she told me that she couldn't just tell me to stop because that's just not how it works. you don't just stop cutting. she asked me not to cut my wrists, but if i needed to cut, to do it somewhere else on my body, somewhere less dangerous. i listened to her. i didn't want to kill myself and i always knew the risks of cutting my wrists. but i had been cutting for a year and a half, i thought i knew what i was doing. but when you're as upset and angry as i was, you don't have sense. you don't know what's going on; you just do it.

cutting is a scary thing. but it's something i feel i have to do. i'm not looking for sympathy, i'm looking to get my story out there for other people who cut to let them know that they're not alone. i don't cut my wrists anymore, i cut on my hip. and it's NOT a joke. cutting and self-harm is NEVER a joke.