i moved here about half a year ago. i hated this place when i first got here, and i still kind of do, even though now i have some friends. when i first moved here and i was all alone, i had a crush on this guy, but that didn't exactly merit me staying here. especially when i was so depressed when i wasn't staring at him, which i couldn't do at home. it's so strange, as soon as i started fitting in and really making friends, i hated myself more than ever. i know it doesn't make any sense, but you may understand after you read this. although, understanding really isn't very popular with people. oh well, here we go...

i started burning, erasing really, a couple months ago. i don't remember when exactly, but i remember exactly what i was doing. i was talking to my best friend online, and i was rather depressed (no kidding!). when i get really depressed i kind of twitch a little, and i was crying, and i couldn't stop. i just wanted everything to go away. i wasn't really paying attention to what i was doing, and i had a pencil in my hand. i was rubbing the eraser against my skin really hard. it kinda hurt, but it helped. it sort of relaxed me. i stopped twitching and crying. i told eric my arm hurt, and that i had erased it. he obviously had no idea what i was talking about, so i explained. he said he was worried, which i think of now as kind of funny, but anyway. i was more sad and tired now than in pain, and said so. he suggested that i go to bed, so i did. i did it again, and it was wonderful. i hate to describe it like that, but it was. it's disgusting, and vile, and painful, but wonderful.

around the same time i started going out with this great guy (the guy who i had a crush on before). he's wonderful, even more so than burning (erasing is actually burning when you rub it hard enough and long enough against the skin). my friends noticed the marks on my wrist, which i had made so tactfully a couple days earlier (notice the sarcasm). i had said that i wasn't paying any attention and that it had been an accident. as soon as they believed me, which eric didn't of course, i felt, proud. proud that i could do something that helped, FINALLY, without someone telling me that i couldn't, shouldn't, and that they wouldn't let me.

as of right now, i have 16 scars, or scars to be. i have also taken to other forms of SI. sometimes i will starve myself for days, allowing myself only to eat crackers after school, or a couple bites at dinner (although most of the time dinner is disgusting anyway so i don't really want to eat it)...anyway...
i have 8 on my stomach, 2 on my leg, 2 on my hand, and four on my arm. 8+2+2+4=16. as soon as eric realized what i was doing, he immediately told me i should stop, as did my other best friend kristen (who cuts, although is trying to stop). i felt violated, that they would DARE fuck with something i had searched for so long. i had found something that helped and they wanted to take it from me. i was obviously not very happy about this. i deserved this, i was evil. i am evil. i am a monster. i deserve to be hung, quartered, disemboweled, and then beheaded, like what they did to traitors in henry 8's time. i am really that bad. i am disgusting. i have to bleed, and hurt, and it HELPS. something so disgusting HELPS. IT'S DISGUSTING. but i hate it so much, it makes me do it more and more and more. even before i did that i deserved it. bumbling stupid idiots should not be allowed to take up space, and breathe the air. at such times when i feel like this, not even my christmas gift from my boyfriend can help.

as of about two weeks ago, i realized my friends were right, and this wasn't REALLY helping, however much i told myself it was. since i was, and am still, reluctant to believe this, it's been incredibly hard. i have only been doing this for a FUCKING MONTH AND I CAN'T STOP! shows how strong i am... last sunday, i screwed up after a week of not burning or anything. i was sharpening a knife because we were having steak for dinner (ooh, edible food...) and i was testing the edge. the knife was so sharp i cut myself, not real bad though. later on sunday, i lost it, and i was twitching like crazy, and i wanted to shout and scream and torture myself, and i burned. it is the worst of all of them. now, almost a week later, it's still an open wound, and it's not healing. it will, i know it will. i am so STUPID! i had scars! i didn't even put anything on the burns to reduce the risk of scars. although the scars are pretty... they remind me of the monster i am, and that i have been punished, at least a little bit. if i am going on too long, i might just be ranting. i want to get this all off my chest, but i don't want any of my friends to read it, they would freak COMPLETELY, which really would not be fun...

on monday, in fifth period, i decided i would end my life. i even started writing something, that i would later recopy into an email, and put in my mail waiting to be sent box, which was a last letter to all of my old friends. when i got home, i realized i was all alone. i was so happy that no one was there to interfere, and so i sharpened another knife, and better knife, and got out a bottle of pills. as i was signing onto the internet to send my final notes, my mom got home. as of right now, i grant this to be a good thing, however it royally pissed me off then. i actually got into a fight with eric later about whether love was real, and i said some nasty things about not caring about him, or anyone else for that matter. i took back what i said on tuesday, after i had been hanging out with my boyfriend. he always makes everything better, and he always makes me happy about being alive. if i wasn't, then i couldn't be with him. anyway...

and this leaves us at now, when nothing is happy, i am sad and alone. i am left with the desire to cut myself, as i hold no more affection for burning, as it no longer eases my pain. i want to see the blood pouring down my skin, however i probably will not, as my sister is coming to visit, and if i did that, she might be suspicious. nothing new...