It all started in 7th grade. Maybe a little before that but it was nothing serious just a little scratch here and there. In 7th grade everything started changing. I had just switched school's from elementary to high school so friendships were changing I found in September i didn't have all the friends i had left back in June. But I had also made new friends one in particular. We never really admitted we were friends it was just a special connection we had. We had that kinda friendship where we didn't have to tell each other what was going on because we just knew so we never talked about that kinda stuff.

The cutting started one night when i was spending the night at her house. We had drawn a symbol on our legs and we wanted it to stay on so we first tried to burn it on but that didn't work so i took apart a pencil sharpener and we cut our skin. At the time we never really thought about what we were doing it was just an attempt to make our symbol stay a little longer but it also felt like a release and didn't hurt while I was cutting just afterwards. After that night me and my friend started cutting at school. We would go into the girl's washroom and cut our arm's deep and drawing as much blood as we could. We would joke about it, laugh it over but inside it was different. My friend eventually got caught cutting and was sent to the guidance counselor Jennifer. She was so good to both of us and a lot of fun, an excuse to get out of class. I eventually told her about my cutting and then i told my mom because at the time i wanted to stop. They sent me to mental health and the person i was seeing said i was cutting for attention. What i didn't know is that i was gonan hear that a lot more then from just her. They put me on pills and said that it would make everything better. What a laugh. It only made things worse. Me and my friend had a lot of cutting incidents but the worst was one night at my house she slit her wrists and really deep it kinda freaked me out but not enough to give up my only escape.

Time played a really big part on my life. It went on and me and my friend got separated. She was taken away from me just like everything else i cared about. I would never admit to her that i cared about her but i did. She was my best friend.She switched schools and we grew apart a bit although we never admit it. I got a new best friend but nobody could ever replace her. She understood they didn't.

As time went on the depression got worse and the cutting more serious. I would cut deeper and make more cuts sometimes i would cover my whole arm with new cuts then i would have to stop for a week so they would scar and then i could start over again. I only ever cut my left forearm. My mom discovered my new cuts actually my 87 scars and 32 new cuts and i was left with no privacy. They locked up everything sharp and wouldn't let me off by myself for more then 2 minutes but that couldn't stop me.

I brought my razor blades to school and 2 bottles of pills. I was going to kill myself and be done with everything. But just my luck. My mom noticed the pills missing and called the school. I was dragged down to the guidance office then sent home and dragged off to mental health. That didn't stop me from cutting and thinking of killing myself. They try to help but they don't it's not helping at all. I still want to kill myself and i still cut. I haven't been in the hospital but i have pushed the limits to all extremes.

During all of this drama i had created another life for myself. I replaced my family and friends with an online life. I spent hours at a time in front of the computer in chat rooms chatting and creating a whole new life. I pushed all the real stuff away and replaced it with a fake life. One that i could really get into. But in the end it all got to be too much. I was trying to bear my real life and all the problems that brought on and another completely different life that brought on more problems then it provided an escape for. And I could only push it all away for so long until i finally broke down and just collapsed into bitter tears of hate sadness heart break loss and so many other things. Writing all this is so much easier then talking about it and although this is a little disorganized it has helped just to get it all out and into the open. I am not any better and don't know if i will be. I still think about downing a bunch of pills and slipping into a comfortable sleep but then i look at my mom and see all the pain i have caused her and i just can't bear to think of what it would do to her if i were to let go of my life. My mom has kept me up for a little while but someday I know that's not gonna be enough. I Need Something More. I Am Always Searching For Something More And Maybe Someday I Will Find It.