Just Me

why I self harmed

Ok, so self harming is a very, very serious topic; as is suicide.
I let things get to me
Things just piled and piled. My world is one that people don't sit down and talk they don't care, you either suck it up or build a wall.
A lot of things have happened to me, no pity.
I've always battled with my self image, what society thinks. You know what fuc* them... Society tells me to like rap. I like sublime.
I've moved from Tennessee to Virginia to California.
And it, it was hard
Seeing everything you had just slip away into nothing. To start a whole new life in a totally new place is just so hard.
My self harm story isn't really a story it was me ... I expressed myself in the wrong way, I felt numb and empty. Some nights I would feel dead. I would self harm to know I was still
here
But the funny thing is, that it left me more drained than before. My whole life was changed, I had to alter everything I wore. Nobody could know, they can't know they got to me. Is what I thought. They had won and I knew it. My whole life was consumed by those scars and cuts. I just wanted someone to notice
I eventually started wearing short sleeves again showing my cuts. Nobody said a word, they passed by like I was nothing. I thought that's what I was: nothing. I was so down, I was screaming for help and nobody even batted an eye. Until one person stopped me. They said as they grabbed my arms "you are worth more than this, those people are just your opponents in life, you can't let them win, this is your life, you're meant to win" it really just made me see. Someone actually cared. So I stopped, then started, then stopped again. I am now clean for 3 months. Me and this person would go around and check on people and tell them, they are stronger. But one thing that got me was people who said "this is just an "emo" phase" emo has nothing to do with it "kill yourself already" self harm doesn't mean I was suicidal.
If I was I would've done it by then. And trust me I tried.
*Update from the future*
I am currently 1 day clean, I relapsed really hard, life was so unbearable. It just felt like something was sucking onto my happiness, draining me of every last drop. My dad would look at me, disgust in his eyes, and say : why don't you cut deeper? So I did that night, I took a razor and cute, cut my pain, my anxiety, my numbness away. I felt ALIVE for the first time in months I felt as though I was living, with the red blood rushing out of my cuts I was transformed. The cuts opened wider, like the smile of the Cheshire Cat, welcoming me with sadness. And after that was over, I could barely move, I was so drained so exhausted I physically couldn't move. I just curled into a ball slowly and cried. It's like an ache is always there. But, yet my hands still itch for metal, for a razor,for a blade, something to ease the pain. And I recently got out of a mental hospital.~ bye