This was just something I wrote upset with myself and others.. I can't remember when it was exactly. I used to write so much... I had a luggage full of notebooks a wrote in since 2008-2011. But I threw them away because I wanted nothing hanging over my head when I moved away.. Sometimes I miss them though..

The willows tears are stifled as she looks through their window.
Smiling and joyful faces, butterflies and dandelions.
Not a cloud in the room.
She bends and breaks down her bones, squeeze off her throat and continues into the halls of mannequins. They stare. It grows inside her..
She cant say no.
She holds the giggles and hugs of the unknown, playing tennis with the mouths and hands of the faceless. She begins to miss the bouncing ball… again and again.
Her spine wants to stretch and break through the skin; flee!
But she cannot let it!
She escapes momentarily to cut out the veins and tie down the beating scared soul.
Flesh is no match, it avoids the touch, fakes submission.
She believes she is safe, unbeknownst to her that it conspires against her.
Everyone conspires.
Longing for the freedom of a sparrows wings.
She desires to flaunt and wave, laugh, scream and smile.
To jump off this barbed fence with no fear.
But she breaks her knees in prayer and stumbles.
Her toes and feet are scarred from sharp wires; tip toe along the fence she goes.

At first, you give yourself a cry. Then, you cry even more. After that you reach the point of eyeing the razor in the shower, telling yourself no, but then in the mist of chaos inside yourself you bend to.

We all reach this path through different strides, some of us have been walking past it for a while, some have been in a different neck of the woods for all their life. But overall, one joint thing is certain: our self worth is the same. We're not worth that. None of us. When I read those words or heard people tell me that I wouldn't trust them. My issue is just that: trust. My problem with it, my willingness to give it, my reluctance... it's all full circle. Ironically, the thing that helped me out was the gaining of trust. The oh so cliched and cheesy line must be used: it takes one. (you're looking at it and possibly questioning if I even used that right, googling it now. If not, you probably will after reading that bit)

In the mist of complete darkness and emptiness I wanted to reach deep; deep into myself and deep into my soul. I wasn't sure, I wanted to be numb. Feeling too much has always been a problem for me. I love the people around me too much before they leave. My breaking point was caused by the already present cracks in my family, and the pieces that'd fallen to the ground, never to be reached for again.

I hope you're still with me at this point. Read more »

I have the right to not feel guilty or ashamed when I hurt myself. I have the right to not allow anyone to make me feel ashamed or guilty. Setbacks are part of the process. Beating myself up about them isn't going to change that fact.

I have the right to be treated like a human first and a self-injurer second.

I have the right to never be called a freak. Ever.

I deserve the opportunity to tell my story, instead of people jumping to conclusions about why I hurt myself.

I deserve to be treated with dignity and respect. I am an addict, not a criminal. My addiction- like any other medical condition- should always be handled with sensitivity and respect.

I have the right to be heard out before you assume I am dangerous, violent, suicidal, mentally unstable, or otherwise crazy. Most cutters are none of the above, by the way.

I have the right to be defined by more than just my scars.

I have the right to feel validated.

I have the right to dress comfortably, regardless of my scars. If I do wear clothes that conceal them, it should be because I am more comfortable that way, not because I feel like others will judge me if I don’t cover them up.

I have the right to refuse to answer questions I do not want to answer.

I have the right to refuse to let others look at or touch my scars if I don’t want them to.

I have the right to talk about self-injury without fear of being judged, criticized, mocked, or betrayed. I also have the right to refuse to talk about it when I don't want to. Read more »

First off let me point you to a favorite song of mine: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xVsmv3lIwHw By a band called serial joe. 

The song is called mistake. I was so stricken by this song I made this user name when I was 18. I'm 28 now. Perhaps it's not

a profound effect but it does show that it had an effect on my life. 

I could sit down and write blog after blog about my life. The pain, the abuse, and the problems that have shaped my life.

Trust me that is a real long story. I could write a series of books on it. but then again I'm sur that anyone that would actually

give me time and read this could do the same. Your stories could be just as horrorific or mildly so but who's to scale

another persons pain with a rating? I'm glad to show you my resilence to be here at the age of 28 and I'm glad to know your

resilence has allowed you to last this long.I will tell you Is tarted to SI at 6(possibly before) and I started to cut at about age 9. Read more »