I remember the first time I cut.
Back in the winter of 7th grade. Things were hard.
I decided to cut. It started with a needle. Dragging it across my skin..
Felt so good..After a few months I started to cut to the point of blood with a needle..The winter of 8th grade...Things went to hell..I found a cutting knife ...
I cut so deep..Blood went everywhere..So good..I carved the name of my true love into my wrist... Summer after 8th...I was tired of everyone finding out I cut..My "friend" reccomended I cut with a razor..So I did..SO MUCH BLOOD, and it didn't always scar because they were clean cuts..Winter of 9th grade...I get our of the shower..I stare at my naked body in the mirror...My wrists have a few scars and a name still engraved on my wrist...I look at my thighs..
Full of scars, fresh cuts, and so much more..I pull on my pants, and put on a shirt.. I open my coverup and put it on my wirst..I look at myself in the mirror.. To anyone passing by I'd look fine..I look at myself..And I smile..