I'm Emily. I'm 14 years old. I've been self injuring for almost a year now. I know that compared to a lot of other people that isn't much, but I'm already hooked. It's like a drug addiction, and I can't stop. Both of my parents are alcoholics and I haven't seen or heard from my father since I was five. When I was little I used to make a game of her alcoholism. Whenever she'd get drunk I'd go into her room and wake her up to ask her if I could order a pizza. She'd mumble some inaudible slurred words and I'd take it as a yes and go in her purse to get the money. Then my brother would call Dominos and we'd order the pizza and eat it in his room, where I'd sleep that night. It was things like that that kept me from hating her when I was little. I got along with her fine when she was sober, but when she was drunk I would get really upset. I was too little to understand.

I used to like to play with my grandmother's sewing kit. When no one was looking I'd take a few needles. When I got home I would go in my room and lock my door. I'd stick them into my skin and let them sit there, sticking out of my skin with the blood pouring down my arm. I thought it was the neatest thing.

Me and my friend used to try to break each others bones for fun. We'd jump on each others legs and arms and all over but we were never successful. I don't know why we wanted our bones broken so bad. It was all a joke for us. But I've always had a high tolerance for pain, and I liked to use it to my best advantage.

But I grew out of that stage where needles were fun and broken bones was a game I could play. For several months now, it's been a release. I get upset, I cut myself. I feel better. I don't cry, I cut instead. I'm not an expressionable person. I don't like sharing my feelings and problems with people, so I bleed them out instead. I cut myself all over and it feels good. I hate hiding my scratches though. I don't bother hiding my scars at all because it's pointless, and I can always lie about how old they are. I'm a bare all person. I like wearing short shorts and tank tops in the summer. My cutting has restricted it a lot this summer though. The majority of my scars and scratches are on my legs and I've been wearing pants a lot. My most recent one was my worst one so far. I would have wanted stitches if I had obtained it any other way. But I can't tell people about my cutting. It's too dear to me to tell people. Only three people know and they will be the only
three people to know.

For now I still cut myself at least five days in an average week. I would like to quit but just throwing the blade away apparently isn't enough. I've tried that, and there's always more sharp objects in the house to play with. I'm currently working on another way, distractions.