My story starts about four years ago. I met this beautiful girl named Jen. On the outside she was a princess. Blonde hair and blue eyes. The type of beauty you see on television. The kind of girl I could never have. Then I found out a secret she had been hiding. She hurt herself on many occasions. Burning was her method. Cutting was mine. She started because of parent issues and boyfriend problems. I started because of her.

Now at first all I would do was take a serrated blade and scratch myself. Not to the point of an actual incision but just a scratch. I would do this as a way to get her attention. I wanted her to feel as If she could relate to me in some way. She was 17 at the time and I was 14. There wasn't much we had in common so that was the only way I felt I could get close to her. But all she would do Is tell me how I shouldn't be doing this to myself and that It wasn't making things any better. She was right.

She eventually moved away to Washington. And that's when my cutting started to get really bad. She wasn't there anymore. She wasn't there to tell me to stop. To help me forget the pain that she herself was causing. I loved her more than anything in the world at that time and she just left me alone with nothing but a sharp blade in hand. A blade I stole from her kitchen. My cuts started getting deeper and deeper. The scars would begin to cover my arm completely and she wasn't there to try and stop me.

Eventually my Mom noticed my scars. I would try and hide them from everyone I knew. The cuts would start bleeding when I was eating dinner. My brother noticed the blood dripping down my hand and asked what it was from. I responded the same way I still do, "Oh it's just a cut". And I got up and went to the bathroom to clean the blood off. And that's the most I have ever said to anyone about my problem ever since Jen left my life.

That's the way things stayed for awhile. Then eventually I stopped. For about six months. Then one night I was sitting in my room after a depressing night of seeing the girl I liked hanging all over another guy. I sat there wondering why I was letting all these emotions build up when I could easily release them buy digging that knife into my skin. So I did. And the sensation I grew to love was back. I began to wonder why I had ever stopped. Then I realized it the next day when I was desperately trying to hide my fresh cuts from friends and family members. Even though I know they care I still don't believe it. Believing something and knowing something are two completely different things.

Now I am sitting In my new apartment in a new town two-hundred miles away from all my old problems. I thought buy moving away from all the pain would help me forget and maybe stop all together. But I haven't

I'm only 17. I live on my own already. Away from all the people I grew up with. Away from all the people I thought caused my pain. In reality things have only gotten worse. The people that caused my pain are the people I miss the most. I love my parents more then anything and I now realize that. Even though they will never understand me they will always love me. And I will always love them.

Yes I do still cut myself on a regular basis. And I have come to realize that it is the only way I can cope. I also take lots of prescription medications. Not for my problem [I have never been to any kind of doctor for my SI]but to escape the realities of life. I'll take up to fifteen narcotic pain relievers a day to help forget. They only help me find my way to the blade. But I take them anyways.

Now I live day to day. Waiting to see what tomorrow has in store for me. The only reason I haven't killed myself yet is because I'm a curious person. I want to see what tomorrow brings. It's usually a shitty day but on occasion it's a good one. And those are the days I live for.

"Laugh and the world laughs with you. Weep and you weep alone"