December 23, 2014 I started cutting. I broke up with my boyfriend and immediately felt empty. After hundreds of messages asking him to take me back he did and I threw it away. I was fine until I got home and started pleading for him to take me back and "it was just a joke" to only be ignored. I laid on my bed sobbing and screaming at the top of my lungs of how fucking stupid I was. I wanted to die. I wanted to hurt myself. Without a second thought I went in the kitchen and grabbed a dirty pair of scissors off the counter and ran to the bathroom. I ripped the razors off the first disposable razor I saw and stupidly started cutting the razors in half with the scissors. When I was done I ran to room turned on a light and started shredding my skin on my wrist. The blood sept through the cuts and onto my bed sheets. I felt calmer, laid back, almost in a trance like someone on drugs would be in. I quickly became addicted. I eventually stopped due to realizing cutting wouldn't solve my problems, maybe the pain, but never the problem.
