that was when my habits just got worse. i was so incredibly angry with everything. i was so confused by my feelings and wants and needs. i became so self destructive that even others who didn't know me could see the effects. one day, senior year, a blonde girl in my photography class grabbed ahold of my arm for closer observation. the gashes stung and they ripped open anew.

"why do you do this to yourself?" she asked. it was so blunt. this girl i didn't even know asked a question that my closest friends were too afraid to even mutter. i was so shocked, i did not know how to react but gather my belongings and leave.

i became someone other than myself. i no longer recognized the reflection in the mirror. the eyes hazed with indifference, body aching and weak from the constant loss of blood. for safety reasons i will not describe everything i did out of confusion. but it got to the point where sobriety was like an itching wooly  sweater, clinging to my neck.  

i was called to the office by three separate teachers over those two semesters, i was able to beg two of them not to call my parents. they were 'concerned' because i 'was not acting like myself.' i was such an angry, hateful person. angry that the man i loved didn't want to be alive, to stick around for me. angry that my parents never spoke up. that was all i needed. just for them to tell me to stop.

nothing particular sparked the suicide attempt. just a continuous dissatisfaction with the world, i suppose. so vertically i drew the razor blade, releasing me finally.