So, here you are, holding a blade. You’re scared, but you don’t know what else to do. You don’t have anyone to talk to. And even if you did, what would you say? Your life is falling to pieces. No one understands. You hate yourself, you hate your body, you hate everything. You can’t breathe. You’re panicking. You need some sort of release. Shaking, you put the blade to your skin… And you cut for the first time. It’s small. It barely bleeds. But you feel so much better. You can think again. You promise yourself it won’t happen again. It was a one time thing. But you’re dead wrong. Next time you get in a fight, get bullied at school, feel pressured by your parents, you’ll cut. And this time deeper. There’s more blood, more wounds. But you can handle it, right? They’ll heal. And you’ll just limit it to this one spot, and only in extreme emergencies. Wrong again. Something small happens. You drop a glass, and it breaks. Or you failed a test. Your sibling borrowed your CD without asking. Your parents scold you for coming home late. So you cut again. They just keep getting deeper. And they’re getting harder to hide. The weather is getting warmed, but you can’t wear t-shirts. Or shorts. Or skirts. Hoodies and long pants will become your best friends. Whenever someone touches you, your heart flutters and you pull instantly away. You don’t want them to feel your cuts. No one can know. You’re cutting regularly now, and you feel constantly ashamed. You search for someone, anyone who you is like you. You scan people’s body’s for signs of self injury, but you find none. Clean arms, no scars. You feel ashamed. You feel alone. You stop talking to your friends, because you are so afraid they’ll find out. You don’t want to slip up and say something that could give your little secret away. Your best friend asks what’s going on with you, and you don’t know what to say. You get into a fight. So you go home and cut. But this time you go too deep. The blood won’t stop flowing and the wound the gaping open. You’re scared, but you can’t ask for help. So you bandage it as best you can and hope it will be okay. The blood keeps soaking through, but you can do nothing put change the bandage and pray. Eventually it heals, but a wide, ugly scar remains. You swear you’re going to stop now, you’re done. But you keep on cutting. And as you learn to treat your wounds better, they just keep getting deeper. You can’t go a single day without cutting. It consumes your every thought. You have no friends. You never go out. You do everything alone. You think you are all alone. But you’re wrong. There are people out there just like you who think cutting is the only way. Millions of people harm themselves everyday. If you haven’t started cutting, please, don’t pick up the blade. And if you want to stop, there are other ways to cope. Talk. Sing. Scream. Run. Draw. Dance. Anything to get through the urges. Self harm is an addiction, and it isn’t easily controlled. Don’t start down this path, and if you’re already here, you can always go back. I’m here. I understand. I know you’re trying your hardest.