It was kinda hard to hide what I was doing. My wrists were scabby and sliced up, as were my arms, and because it was Summer, I couldn't get away with wearing long sleeves all the time. When I told a close friend of mine what I had done, she told me that she had done it to herself as well.. that she used to burn herself, cut herself and whatever else.. and the reason she had done it was because she wanted the attention of some girl, because she was depressed and didn't know what else to do, and because she was totally fucked up at the time.. but she understood why I did it, and that was amazing.. because people everywhere were telling me that I was a masochist, and that I was stupid, and that I only did it because I hated them... whatever... it had nothing to do with any of those reasons, and it was totally selfish of them to even think that.

The scary thing about it was that I had tried to cut myself before, but had never been able to go through with it. I was so strong now.. you know? If I could destroy myself little by little like this, what else was I capable of? The thing was, that it didn't even hurt while I was doing it, and if it did hurt it made me just want to do it all the more, to see how much pain I could bear - to see how long I could endure this kind of agony.... Ok, so it hurt like hell an hour or so afterwards.. but that was the point wasn't it? the pain? I don't know...

It was also a kind of big FUCK YOU to everyone. It was like, see what I've done to myself? and guess what, everyone in the world! The reason I did it was because of you! Because noone out there cares enough about me to see what I'm doing to myself and noone cares enought out there to stop me...

Even though I knew none of that was true... but anyway.....