So I like to call today backwards 9/11. I call it that because today exactly two years ago is the first day I self harmed. I still remember the scene before it all started. I was ordered to sweep the living room, and I was reluctant but complied. Then I asked my mother kindly if she wanted me to sweep under the couch... she then began to scream at me saying I was a lazy ass ungrateful child and kept on screaming at me. When I tried to say I'm sorry I was only asking she then began to use every cuss word in the English vocabulary. I then started crying well more like sobbing. She looked at me with her gritted teeth formed in an evil grimace and I just fell apart I hated myself for even asking. I should have never asked. I didn't mean to upset her and be screamed at for asking a simple question. I then finished sweeping and ducked my head into my room. I pulled up a TV show on amazon. I forget what it was. And then I proceeded to take out a pink box cutter and tried cutting my left arm but failed I then dug at my skin several times leaving an infected mark. I then cried myself to sleep hating myself for being a terrible child. The next day I slipped on my blue monarch academy hoodie and was off to school hoping no one would ask any questions or lift up my sleeve. The next night I then made 4 more marks in my left forearm. And thus began my addiction that I still battle till this day. So exactly a month later on December 9th I had to tell someone the school counselor which then got me thrown into a mental hospital because having over 500 cuts on you at one time is a really bad thing evidentially. That was just great.
