I first started cutting when I was in.. 5th grade? Idk, maybe 6th, doesn't matter. I started getting depressed. And it sticked. I never thought I would've been the person to cut myself, I always heard my best-friend was doing it to herself. And it just..hurt to see her in so much pain that she took a blade to her skin and make herself bleed. I never thought that was a good option.. Until I did it myself. And I see why she did it. The relief of the blade entering your skin, and letting your pain drip out of that cut. When ever things go bad, that blade would go into my skin, deeper and deeper. It helped me, when nothing else would. One day, my parents figured out about it. They did a lot at first, but in the end, I still cut when they stopped caring. The blood oozing down my skin, sweet, sweet relief. Then one night, I was a fucking idiot and swore on someone's life never to cut again. I don't wanna say it but.. I miss cutting. Badly..
