I've just read about 10 other personal stories... rape, abuse, parents who genuinely don't love their kids, and I'm lucky enough to have a Mum who though at time's she's belittling and cruel, I know loves me. I've never been sexually abused, and suddenly I'm thinking that I have no right to need this.Living in a nice part of England, My Dad left Mum when I was 4 but we did ok. Mum worked constantly and my brother and I were brought up by my Gran and Granddad. Maybe it was this old fashioned way of life, or maybe it was just me, but at school I was always different. In Primary school I was always the smartest in my year, I loved it, only hated the stigma that stuck with it. I was called names, beaten up a number of times, but mainly insulted and made to feel more rejected.

I had one or two friends at a time, always thinking I could trust them, and always finding out (as kids do) that the friend really couldn't give a rats ass about you. I moved to high school, my big break.. (I'm sorry you're getting my life story but hey) I could get new friends, and not be the geek. Didn't work. I liked me, I just didn't like that no one else seemed to. Again I found a 'close' friend, who I decided I really didn't need cos who wants friends who make you feel bad? This happened twice ... and in year 8 I began to find good friends, who shared interests, shared thought, and genuinely liked me and me them. Everything was good, I liked me, people liked me. I don't know why I went downhill, I still have the loving Gran and Granddad, Mum still works all the time, and yes my brother has grown up to be belittling and cruel like Mum, but only because he thinks it's normal. I look after him, and I suppose I'm the other parent he's rebelling against.

In year 10, just after I turned 15, and the new school year started, I began to feel so down every day for weeks at a time. I didn't understand it. Stress of school and all the pressure to do well? I have great friends, yet I got more and more depressed, moods going up and down, so low and suddenly back up again.I know this site is about SI, and so far I haven't mentioned it, it's on the way...

3 weeks after my 15th birthday I decided if I got drunk I wouldn't care how I felt. I drank 2 bottles of wine in one night.. I threw up out of the front door and staggered back to bed head spinning. Just before christmas, still in a foul mood hating everyone for not being able to help, hating myself for not asking for help, and hating the world for daring to continue when my life's come to a stand still-I wasn't eating right, I was barely sleeping, and thought nobody cared. I denied the first attempt of someone offering help. A youth group leader at church pulled me aside and told me, he cared, and I looked fed up. 2 weeks after New year, after deciding this year was going to be a great one, i cut for the first time. I remember being online, and searching for answers and people's ideas about depression, trying to claw my way out. I hit on a site, probably similar to this, and though I knew what it was I never understood it. I decided maybe it works.. I pulled a disposable razor apart and made 3 small scratches at the corner of my wrist on the bone that sticks out, and over the next few weeks I cut over and over in the same place ... no one noticed when I suddenly swapped my watch over to my left hand. Then I got bored of the same skin, so I cut deep into my upper fore arm, and twice lower down on the side of m arm. again, I went over and over the same cuts, trying not to make them to obvious and blaming it on the cat.

Twice teacher pulled me aside, asking if I was ok. The brainy kid, who always seemed happy and suddenly seems so down ... they cared?? I'm not sure, see no one ever asks twice, and I often wonder if when they make you promise to tell them if anything's wrong.. they know you really wont.

I'm 16 soon, and then I can celebrate over a year of being depressed, at new year a year of cutting. I'm not sure when It was i moved on to my ankle. I decided i had to avoid being caught, so my ankle would be less seen ... now it's well and truly butchered and the vein has been sliced accidentally too many times to count. It helps, the pain.. if you cut you understand completely. How easy it is to just get the urge and not want to fight it ... give in and deal with the guilt another time. The fix.. though short-lived is a good one. The adrenaline and the wake up call. The smack back into reality.

I am trying to stop, I do not want to (though I fear I have) become dependent on it. I think though, that it might just be necessary to deal with the depression, and when that ends, the cutting will end.Until then I'm stuck.. with the little metal box in my drawer, that doesn't have mints in it. The purple scars on my ankle, no one's found, the sideways glances at the down look on my face and the wondering, silent wondering if i'm ok.

No.. I'm not. But they never ask twice. As much as they care, there isn't too much the people who love me can do. When I hide it so well, hide every emotion ever day, there's not much they feel they need to do. I'm waiting. ... for the day I break down, the day I cry, when they're all so relieved I've finally broken. That's a good thing.. I think.

One piece of advice i can give anyone.. If someone offers help.. TAKE IT. What I wouldn't give to have turned round last christmas and said "no.. I'm not okay, I need you. I'm losing myself!" I'd never have started then... I'd have been able to wear sandals.

This was long.. I know it's not particularly entertaining, but I know. I know self loathing, I know fear of cutting too deep, being caught and letting the real you loose on everyone you care about. I know pain so intense you think you might burst, and frustration so powerful you could shatter the wall. I know numbness, when there's nothing left to feel, and everyone feels dead to you. I know jealousy for the people who walk tall, and smile truthfully, glowing. But know one day I'll be able to do that, and feel all the better because I climbed over the hill, and they say exercise is good for you.

One last thing.. The most beautiful thing is created under the most intense pressure... A diamond. I know it's corny, but it really makes me look forward to that light in the tunnel... when I eventually see it.