so i understand that scars are supposed to remind me of where i’v been and everything but they’re starting to really piss me off. I’m done seeing them and people that i don’t know seeing them. I’m tired of not wanting to wear short sleeves and being embarrassed at work when i don’t wear a jacket. I’m done wearing short over my bathing suit so people don’t see the scars on my legs and as i was sitting in my bathroom thinking all these thoughts, It hit me. Why the hell would I do this to myself in the 1st place? What made me do it? What thought in my crazy messed up brain of mine thought that cutting would solve anything? I mean.. seriously what does it really help? And why did I turn to it insteed of drawing or working out? What drives a person to physically harm themselves over something that won’t really matter in 10 years from now? I know at the time it seemed like a big issue for me so i cut but now it’s like i don’t even remember the 98 other times i cut. I remember 2 when i broke up with Steve and when i broke up with Zack. Then every other bullshit time i guess i just felt like it was the end of the world or hoping it was or something.. 

But even though my blade was digging in my skin leaving permanent scars FOREVER i couldn’t stop. I couldn’t physically make myself stop until i couldn’t move my arm anymore or until i was in a puddle o my own blood. And i understand that i have medical depression and everything but seriously what in the hell was i thinking in those moments? what possessed me to think “Hey! if i almost kill myself maybe it’ll fix the problem!” I guess i always got the concerned best friend to pay attention more, my mother to listen, and whatever douche i was dating at the time to feel awful but IT NEVER MADE THE PROBLEM GO AWAY! it made those people think that i was suicidal again and then lock me up. I’m starting to think half my teenage years were spent in a mental ward. 

But as the years went on i stopped loving it more and more. It never gave me the same high as it did the very 1st time i cut. So why did i keep doing it if it didn’t feel the same way? Was it because i wanted to attention or because i was really depressed? And i guess the bigger question is why the hell i did it on my arm for the whole world to see? That makes me think i wanted the attention. 

And as i get older and my scars don’t fade. I realize i’m going to have these the rest of my life. What will my children say when they see them? what if my daughter thinks it’s a good idea to do it “cause mom did it”? what then? what kind of example am i setting for my younger sister and brothers? What am i really telling people about me when the 1st thing they see are my scars? 

and this is why enough is enough. I’m done cutting forever. I don’t care how hard it is to not cut or ignore the urge to cut sometimes but i’m doing it. I know i can do it, I believe in myself.