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  1. And here is the shock – when you risk it, when you do the right thing, when you arrive at the borders of common sense and cross into unknown territory, leaving behind you all the familiar smells and lights, then you do not experience great joy and huge energy.
    You are unhappy. Things get worse.
    It is a time of mourning. Loss. Fear. We bullet ourselves through with questions. And then we feel shot and wounded.
    And then all the cowards come out and say, ‘See, I told you so.’
    In fact, they told you nothing.
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  2. in Hannahwood14's Blog


    Hi, my name is aria as you already know.Well recently i have been having a tough time during the holidays, on thursday i was at the orthadontist to my new braces but they made me look so stupid/ridiculous which set me off self harming again.I really cant do it anymore and have recently have started having sucicidal thoughts and self harming 2 or 3 times a day quite badly and this blog is the only thing that keeps going because i cant talk to any of my friends or family as most dont know and the rest just would not understand.
    please help i realy do not know what to do??.
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  3. I’m working on my own life story. I don’t mean I’m putting it together; no, I’m taking it apart.
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  4. in Hidden Blog


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  5. in Quotes


    The spine of my life is broken.
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  6. You really hit the sky, stars get into your eyes
    starve and burn away the pain, age will make him go away
    I drank your blood, it looked like wine 
    I drank your blood, it looked like mine 
    I’ll kill myself in your bed 
    you won’t remember what she said 
    I’ll kill myself in your bed 
    you won’t forget 
    follow the doctor, he gives you what he got her 
    climb into his bed of dolls, pretend you have a soul
    I drank your blood, it looked like wine 
    I drank your blood, it looked like mine 
    I’ll kill myself in your bed 
    you won’t remember what she said 
    I’ll kill myself in your bed 
    you won’t forget
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  7. in Hidden Blog


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  8. in minimaugirle8fdab762acbb8dc1's Blog


    You think you know someone? and yeah I dont. 
    I got some good advice for you that are not sure about the one you are dating or you got a crush on. Look for SIGNS. Bad signs , they are there„ just when you are in love you dont see them. You see the good in people and ignore the bad ones, thinking Oh well it will get better. It wont, probably wont. I hope that advice can help some others from getting hurt as me. 
    Feels good to write it out and just try to pour out every inch of feelings , hurt, disapointment, sadness, anger, 
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  9. in Hidden Blog


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  10. I dont know what to write in here but ommm… i tell something about myself first? Im 14 old girl i have depression and anxiety. ive cutted for 2years and ive been bullied for 8 years. i stopped cutting cause i just wanted to get my life in control. I got new friends who got so important to me that i could tell everything to them and suddenly i felt so much better. i thought my depression was gone but i realized its just hiding and waiting… Few days ago i lost some of my best friends, only people i could trust, and now theyre gone becuse they think i stole from them… but life goes on.. or does it? i havent cut for a while but i just think my depression is coming back… i just feel like it all the time. i learned that i shouldnt trust people so easily so i think im just trying to keep it all inside and write it in this blog. I have bad english sorry about that.
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  11. in theatredancer's Blog


    I haven’t told very many people WHY I started cutting.  Really, it was because I was in a dark place spiritually. I felt completely abandoned by God. And I thought, if I don’t even have my faith left, what DO I have?
    I’ve had some bad experiences with church people. Not with God. Not with true Christians. With RELIGIOUS CHURCH PEOPLE. My Dad is a pastor, so I see all the dirty, dark things that happen that no one wants to admit to.  It’s been hard to see these things. It’s been hard when people who talk about the love of Jesus are the ones who are hurting you the most.
    My Dad got a new job. I’m moving with my family. We’re moving to a new church, a new place.  For me, it feels like getting a chance at a whole new life ) Maybe I can FINALLY heal. Maybe now I can feel complete and at peace again.
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  12. in peachesthekid's Blog


    I just want to say at first that I don’t normally do this. Go on these kinds of community sites I mean, but I don’t know where else to go. I can’t really talk to most of my friends about self harming because it’s just one of those things that your peers don’t quite get, or even consider funny.
     
    But, I basically just want to share my story with others because I think self harmers need to have their stories heard.
     
    I’ve been a cutter for about two years now. It’s horrible and I wish I wouldn’t do this to myself. And in a nutshell, basically what its like for me is I’ll be clean for a few weeks then I’ll start again. And just repeat that cycle. But there’s a lot more to my story which I’ll talk about more if other users start reading my posts.
    - Peace
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  13. in j.desj18's Blog


    This is just a little rant, I feel better after I write or rant about what is on my mind. I have a hard time talking to people about what goes through my head because honestly its frightening.. I truely believe that the monsters that use to live under our beds havent never really lived there they have always been in our heads. Always. We are the worst creatures on the planet. We destory the beauty, we make people feel they are not good enough, we bully, we judge, we hate, we push people away. We are our own worst enemy. We continue to want or look for something more and something better than what we already have. We push away the people that mean and care about the most about us, for what? Why do we push people away? Why do we always want more? Why are we always looking for more? Why cant we just see what is right infront of our faces! The most beautiful and amazing people are out there and what are we doing, we are being shy, looking for more and being selfish.
        I can honestly admit that I am my own worst enemy. I always have been and probably always will be. I am guilty of every single one of those things I have mentioned above. I have had the best people in my life, and I have pushed them away.. Why? Because I wanted more, I did not think they were what I wanted. When in fact they were everything I wanted and more. He was my bestfriend, my boyfriend, my lover, my companion, my everything.. And I let him go because I wanted more. I did not accept who he is. I always wanted more from him, I wanted him to stopdoing the things that made him, well him. After being with other people I have not realized how much you can miss one person… How doing the simplest things like driving, could make me think of how amazing he is. He will always be my number one. Forever and always. 
     I’ve never been a very secure girl, but with him I was comfortable, with him I felt on top of the world. He made all my insecurities go away when we were together, I was beautiful, I was sweet, I was everything I wanted to be when I was with him. Now that is all gone. Maybe he was meant to come into my life to teach me that not everything can go my way, or maybe it was to show me how amazing people are. Whatever he was in my life for I wish he was still. Its not that he is gone completely he will never be gone. Although he has moved on and is happier than ever, and I love seeing him happy and smiling with his soon to be family. ( Pregnant Girlfriend ) I just wish I could be the reason. I wish I could be the one to put that smile on his face. I wish I was the girl who he called beautiful, and babe, and gorgeous. I will never feel the love I had for him with anyone else. 
        Its not that I havent moved on. I have been with two people since him. Hey its been a year and a half that we havent been together. It is just every time I think I have gotten over him, our song plays, or I see a picture of him, someone says his name, I see him in my dreams, I feel him with me. But his not.  His not with me, and maybe I sound obsessive or like a crazy ex girlfriend. But maybe he is my soul mate, maybe he isnt. Does anyone believe in soul mates anymore? I feel something with him.. I feel forever when I am in his arms. It makes it hard to be with anyone when all you can think about is him. I wouldnt say I am miserable. No I am not miserable. There is just nights much like tonight that make it so hard to be happy knowing he isnt mine anymore. Knowing he is starting his life with someone else. Knowing he is fine without me, while I can’t even look at his picture without feeling like I want to cry.
       Its hard to let go of someone who helped you through so much. Everytime I feel sad I just want to run to him. I want him to take away the pain, the urge to cut, the sadness, and darkess. I just want him to make me feel safe again in those arms of his. He had a way with words that just made it soo easy to open up to him and talk to him. Have you ever had a person who makes you so incredible happy but is always the reason for your pain? That is him. His is my pain, but he is also my hero<3 
      
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  14. in BackgroundNoise.'s Blog


    Hi, I guess?
    My councellor advised me to write things down and get it out, so I figured this is a good place to do it as my diary isn’t exactly working..
    Erm, I don’t really know what to say so i’m going to tell you a bit about me..
    Hi, i’m Kath/Kat and I have just turned 15 (on the 16th March), I am in year 10 at a school in Worcester, UK and on the outside I am a normal 15 year old girl doing brilliantly at school. (I don’t mean to boast, but A*s are on their way ) ) I can feel you judging me but heyho, i’m used to it! Gah right erm, I come from a normalish family background I guess? I don’t know?
    What the hell is ‘normal’ anyway?
    Right, so my dad left when I was 9. - ever heard the expression “When the going gets tough the tough get going”, yeah well he’s the opposite. For him it’s-“When the going gets tough and you’ve just had five kids with a woman who is now suffering from depression and needs your help desperately, get the fuck outta there!”.
    Yeah, I don’t particularly like my dad, but that’s for another day..
    I am the second eldest of my mother’s 5 children. It goes:
    Lily (16)
    Me (15)
    Jane (13)
    David (11)
    Anne (9) -but she looks about 6!-
    (i’ve changed the names for safety and nosy people!)
    Right so it’s been just us and mum for 6 years now, well up until about a year or so ago (I think) when Lily moved out to live with Dad ‘cause she doesn’t get along with mum.
    So, my parents..
    My Dad was adopted at birth so I don’t know about his actual family, but his adoptive father died when I was about 4. I remember he used to chase us around the garden with a hosepipe and do cartwheels, then he was just gone. Dad used to own a mushroom farm buisness kind of thing, but he injured his back and couldn’t do it anymore..now he’s in a wheelchair. He can’t drive anymore so is out of work. Well, he’a trying to make a travel writing buisness..but that’s another story.
    My mum was the victim of bullying and sexual abuse. All her life she believes she’s worthless. When things started to fall apart with Dad her depression got worse. She tried to kill herself a few times. But she got help. She’s okay now.. A little stupid, but okay.
    I started self harming when I was about 11. Just little things like biting my cheeks until they bled and just hitting myself against things or pinching myself til I left bruises. It’s all a blur now but I was getting bullied a lot and me and Lily were kind of the mothers ofthe house because mum was pretty much non existent. She’d sleep all day and we had to do a lot around the house. We had to grow up fast.
    Well, that’s a little about me. Oh yeah and music is my life. I love it. Well, good stuff anyway ;P
    I am going to go help others with their problems now because that is what I enjoy! Later dudes.
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  15. in fighting myself's Blog


    So I’m not realy one to recommened songs for people to listen to but the beet and lyrics in this song that I stumbeled on a few mins ago. I liked the lyrics though its upsetting it holds a meaning behind them and that’s what I love about music when the song and words in its self hold more of a meaning then what most songs seem to now.
    ————————————————————————————————————————
    Veer union- the world I wanted
    The world I wanted
    Is drowing me
    Can you see inside my bloodshot eyes?
    One step closer to the dream that dies
    I search for the strength
    To release my rage
    But my minds bolted down
    Inside this cage
    SO HOW
    CAN I
    GO
    ON?
    Is there anything left for me?
    Is there anything left to see?
    This world I’ve wanted
    Is drowning me
    Is there anything to be?
    Is there anything to breathe?
    This world I wanted
    Is drowning me
    My life of colur
    Turns to shades of gray
    Slowly my soul
    Strips away from me
    SO HOW
    CAN I
    GO
    ON?
    Is there anything left for me?
    Is there anything left to see?
    This world I wanted
    Is drowning me
    Is there anything left to be?
    Is there anything left to breathe?
    This world I wanted
    Is drowning me
    I keep holding on
    I’ve must still believe
    I’ve been trying and trying
    For so long
    I keep holding on
    I’m still incomplete
    I’ve been trying and trying
    For so long
    I’ve been trying and trying
    For so long
    Is there anything left for me?
    Is there anything left to see?
    This world I’ve wanted
    Is drowning me
    Is there anything left to be?
    Is there anything left to breathe?
    This world I wanted
    Is drowning me—
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  16. in AnonymousGOP's Blog


    I have been cutting for about a year now. When I first started, I wanted an image. I wanted to look and be like a cutter. I was excited to have a future with scars on my arms. I know what you are probably thinking, “another attention whore! She probably cuts for Bieber” I kind of started realizing after awhile of this “reputation” thing, when and why I was doing it. Whenever I would get into an argument with my mom/dad/sister/teacher/etc. I would cut. Whenever people tell me mean things, or how disappointed they are in me. For about 2-3 months I was doing it for a reputation. Then for about 6-7 months I did it because of pain, and how upset I was with myself and the people around me. Now I am back to the whole “reputation” idea, and it scares me. I am scared about why I would want this reputation. Does anyone have any clue why I would do this for attention? I don’t want anyone to find out until later though. Until I am fully healed, and not doing it anymore. If I think “I am doing this for attention” I remind myself “If you were doing it for attention everyone would know you cut, you wouldn’t mind showing off your healed legs, and you wouldn’t be scared as hell if people knew.” Please help, I really want to know if anyone else has been through this situation. I feel like I might be bipolar, because of the 2-3 months of reputation, were also 2-3 months of relatively happiness. While the 6-7 months were relatively sadness and worthlessness. I think I suppress a lot of feelings as well. For example when I was little, my mom got a rare syndrome called Cushings disease/syndrome (google it), and she had two tumors. During that time I wasn’t scared or worried at all, but I got something called shingles (also google it if you don’t know what that is), which is VERY rare in children. Mostly found in 60 year olds and up! It is brought on by stress, which in my mind, I had none of, AT ALL. Since I may be suppressing some of my feelings, I might be cutting for a deeper reason that I have no idea about, and am replacing the actual reason for doing it, with the thoughts that is is for a reputation. Sorry if that is confusing, but once again, tell me what you think, or if you have ever been in a similar situation! Thank you so, so much. Have a wonderful day :)
    Stay strong <3
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  17. I feel that I need to stay anonymous. No matter what kind of blog I try to keep, people that I know always seem to find it, and I want a space where I can be free to talk about my issues where nobody is going to judge me. Maybe if someone gets to know me, I’ll tell them who I am, but for now I’d prefer to stay anonymous. I shall tell you everything about me, bar my name and where I live specifically.
    So I am an eighteen year old female from North England. I was brought up by my Mum. I didn’t know my Dad until the age of seven. He got in touch and said,’ If I’m paying for it, I wanna see it.’ Mum should have known then it would end badly. He kept coming to visit for a few weeks. He gave me a christmas card and a Gabrielle CD (as he’d recieved two.) He even asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I told him I wanted a pink scooter, but that my Mum couldn’t afford one. He came round the day before my 8th birthday and gave me this present. He told me I could unwrap it then as he wanted to see if I liked it. It was exactly what I’d asked for. I scooted round and round the cul-de-sac, in my element. He told me that he would phone me the next day to wish me a happy birthday, and that he would be round to see me the next weekend. I waved him off as he left in his shiny red car. 
    Even though I had friends around the next day for a birthday party, I didn’t care. I kept running to and from the phone waiting for him to ring. I kept asking Mum if Daddy had rang yet, she kept saying no, telling me to enjoy myself and be with my friends. That weekend I sat at the window sill, waiting for his car to drive into the cul-de-sac. And I sat there the weekend after, and the next, and the next. I made myself believe that he’d gone on holiday and that he would be back soon. Eventually I gave up waiting. 
    My mum married someone else and expected me to think of him as my Father now. When really I couldn’t stand the bastard. He could be bad tempered when he wanted and made me feel like the biggest piece of shit that ever walked on the earth. When I went to secondary school, I got in with the wrong crowd. I started drinking, every friday and saturday. I would save up my school money to afford the alcohol for the weekend. It felt good to escape from my life for a few hours, to get so smashed I didn’t feel like I was in my body anymore. Then I started drinking through the week, getting drunk at school, finding any excuse to have a drink and saving all the money I could so I could get more fucked than I was the weekend before. 
    Then one day I was walking through the park with my Mum, nursing a hangover, when she told me that she had something to tell me. She told me that she’d been speaking to one of the women at work, and she’d informed her that my Dad had cancer, and he wasn’t doing too well. I felt physically sick. I just kept thinking to myself, that if he died, I’d wasted all these years not doing anything, not making the effort to go and see him. I knew exactly where he lived, his address was in the telephone book, but the thought had never crossed my mind, and I knew it was something I needed to do. I needed to know why he left me. I needed closure. 
    Aged twelve, I marched myself up to his doorstep with two of my friends. I got to the door and froze. Was this really what I wanted to do? Did I really want to see him? What is he invitied me in? Did I go in? What the fuck was I doing? Then my friend pressed the door bell. I couldn’t back out now. I stood there, frozen. He answered the door, stood outside and shut it behind him. A shadow of what he used to be. I couldn’t think of anything to say, I spat out ‘Do you know who I am?’ and he replied, ‘Of course I do.’ I thought we’d got off on the right foot! I actually thought that this would be okay, that we’d make up and he’d have a decent reason and we’d start a relationship before it was too late. ‘Why did you leave me?’ I asked him straight out. ‘Because you ruined my life,’ he replied. My stomach lurched. I ruined his life? What could I have done? I was seven years old! ‘You ruined my marriage, paying for you left me broke. Your Mum should have aborted you when I told her too. You were a mistake and you should have never been born. You’ve got a new Dad now, he’s what you need. You fucked my life up.’ Slam. Door was shut. 
    I didn’t know what to do. I burst into tears, uncontrollable tears. I sobbed and sobbed for the whole two and a half hour walk home. Had that really just happened? Did I really ruin someones life? What did I do wrong? Was I not what he was expecting? What should I have done differently? 
    The next two years are a complete blur to me. I got wasted at every oppourtunity. I was taking alcohol from home, standing outside shops with friends asking people to go in. I started smoking. I even tried weed. I needed something to block out everything. I would get so drunk and just sit, and cry uncontrollably. I would stagger home, fall in the door, argue with my Mum for getting drunk, get grounded, punch something and then cry a bit more. 
    One night in particular, I’d walked straight up the stairs when I got in. I sat on my bed and cried and cried. My Mum came up to see me, she’d clicked on that when I was drunk was the only time I would open up. I told her I didn’t understand what I’d done wrong to him to make him hate me so much. She told me it wasn’t my fault, and for the first time since she got with that bastard, she held me close and told me everything was going to be okay. Then he came in. He grabbed me and held me up against the wall, screaming in my face that I should never raise my voice to my mum ever again. I heard my mum screaming at him to let me go. I couldn’t breathe. My feet were off the floor and I was being pushed hard against the wall. He dropped me and walked out. I fell like a bag of shit into a crumpled ball and cried harder and harder, backing myself into the corner, actually scared for my life. 
    That was the first time it happened. I’d punched my wardrobe and I didn’t feel any better. I needed a new release. I needed something else to take away the pain that I felt inside. I looked around my room and a photo frame caught my eye. I picked it up and took the glass out of it. I placed it against my wrist, and slid it along quickly. The blood quickly started apprearing, dripping into my hand. I dropped the glass, what the fuck had I done? I tried to wipe the blood off, but the more I wiped the more it bled. The pain was unbearable. It felt like someone was holding a naked flame to my wrist. I pulled my sleeve down over my wrist, planning to go downstairs and run it under the cold tap. I’d make up the excuse that I was going to the toilet. When I entered the living room my Mum looked at me, I could see in her eyes that she truely cared about me. And I was scared. I was scared of what I’d done to myself and the amount of blood. I sat on the floor and burst into tears again. She came and knelt next to me and asked me what was wrong. I slid my sleeve up and she burst into tears, pulling me close, holding my wrist. Telling me I was silly and she loved me and that I should never do that again. She ran and got the first aid kit and cleaned me up. She held me so close and told me so many times that she loved me. That was the last time she done either. 
    I carried on drinking, I just became a bit more cautious. I would make excuses not go have tea so I could start drinking earlier so I could be a bit more sober before I went home. I started cutting in secret. I’d found my new release and it was working. Mum never thought to check my legs. I was content, not happy, just content.
    On the 28th of May 2008, I was standing in the mirror doing my hair and makeup. My Mum and stepdad had left to go for a drive and I was getting ready to go and meet some friends. I seen out of the corner of my eye the car that my stepdad drives pulling into the cul-de-sac. Thinking nothing of it I carried on doing what I was doing. The living room door opened and I saw my Mum out of the corner of my eye. She had this horrified look on her face. I turned round and asked her what she’d left at home. ‘I have something to tell you, I think you should sit down.’ I was worried, I had no idea what she was talking about. ‘Whats wrong Mum?’ I sat down on the couch. ‘It’s your Dad, he died this morning. The cancer… brain tumour… nothing they could do.. sorry…’ I didn’t know what to say. I stood up and walked back over to the mirror. ‘He’s waiting in the car, you should get going.’ I said. She looked at me as though I was an alien. ‘No, we’ll stay at home with you.’ ‘There’s no point,’ I said, ‘I’m going out to see my friends.’ 
    I spent the whole day putting on this front. Telling people I was fine and I was okay. I said it didn’t matter because we weren’t close. It wasn’t as if my life would change?
    I got home and into bed that night. And it finally hit me. He was gone. Gone for good. Nobody could answer these hundreds of questions in my mind anymore. I would never know the answers. There was nothing I could do. I broke down. I cried and cried and cried. More than I had ever cried before. And it was in that moment that I decided I had to go to his funeral. I had to say goodbye like everyone else and I had the right to.
    I knew that none of his family knew about me. My Mum had told me that he never told his Mum, and his Father had fucked off before he was born, just like he had done to me. I stood shaking my head and crying throughout the funeral. It was full of people licking his arse saying how much of a lovely guy he was and how he would do anything for anyone. I felt like screaming out, what about me? What did he do for me? He left me just as I was getting attatched. He left me when I needed him. I got out of the church and fell to pieces on the floor. I couldn’t stop the constant flow of tears. 
    I needed normality. I needed a routine. So instead of taking time off school like I was told to, I kept going. I kept hanging around with the friends who I got drunk with, I kept being a shit in class and getting thrown out. And I kept cutting. More than ever. All the time. 
    Three weeks after my Dad died was when the bullying started. My friends who I used to get drunk with turned against me. I was recieveing death threats, they were laughing at me when they caught me crying, they turned everyone against me at school because they were the popular kids and what they said went. They made my life an misery. So one night I’d decided I’d had enough. I wrote a note to my Mum, telling her I was sorry for all the trouble I caused and I loved her. I took 17 sleeping tablets and swallowed the lot, hoping that in the morning I wouldn’t wake up. To my dismay I did. I was drowsy, I swayed from side to side when I was walking, this was what I imagined feeling high would be like. I persuaded my Mum I was too ill to go to school, so she let me have to day off.
    I got into the swing of telling Mum I was ill. School was a horrific place to go. With nobody to sit with in lessons or at break time, I’d quickly became a freak. I’d gone from being popular and normal to the school freak within a few week. I was paranoid that they knew about the cuts and that would be the next rumour going around school. Luckily, I’d hid that well. One day I was skiving off again, when my phone vibrated. I knew exactly what it was, it was another death threat. I picked up the phone and read the message, ‘Watch your back bitch. Next time I see you I’m gonna fuck you up.’ I lost it. In those few minuites, to this day I still can’t remember what happened. I just remember looking around and seeing everything smashed. My picture frames were no longer on the walls, my desk was turned over, my bookcase was face down on the floor, my ornaments were smashed all over the place. I needed to get out of there, or I was going to seriously hurt myself. 
    I went to my mums friends house. I broke down. I told her I wasn’t myself anymore, that I didn’t recognise this person that I saw when I looked in the mirror. I told her I was scared of what I could do to myself, or even worse to someone else. She calmed me down. She told me that I needed medical help. She said I was just like her, I was depressed.
    My Mum took me to the doctors the next day. He got me to fill in this survey. If you circled one that meant not at all and if you circled five that meant all the time. I scored twenty seven out of thirty and he told me I had clinical depression. I was given these pills. Yellow on one side and green on the other. Fluoxetine. ‘Now take them every single morning, they’ll make you happy again.’ I didn’t believe him. I felt like I could never be happy again. The next battle was school. As we walked in I could see people staring at me, wondering what I was doing coming to school with my Mum. Fuck them, I thought. We met with my head of year and I spilled everything. She told me that for the last two weeks of the year I could continue coming to school, but stay in her art room. Great, I thought, special treatment for the freak.
    That summer was the worst summer I have ever experienced. I sat in the house day after day, doing nothing. I didn’t see anyone. I didn’t do anything. Most kids were out having fun, playing in the sun with their friends. I sat indoors, locked away in my bedroom, dreading september to arrive.
    I actually made some different friends in my last year. I picked up my grades and walked away with fourteen GCSE’s. I made the right descision to stay on at Sixth Form and get my A-Levels. My life turned around for the best. I have been off anti-depressants for around two years now. It took a few times being on them and being taken off them to get me on an even keel. I’m not going to lie, I still have awful days where I just want to curl up in a ball and cry. The only issue I still have is my self harm. I went through a really bad stage late 2010 and early 2011 where I was cutting all the time. I dont’ cut as often now, but I still do. And I don’t think there will ever be a time when I don’t cut. It’s became part of me just like breathing has. It’s my coping mechanism. Some people count down from ten when they’re angry and I cut myself. I have scars all down my legs. They are clearly visible. But I have learnt to deal with them. I’m not going to hide them from anyone. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t flaunt them for everyone to see, but if it’s a hot day and I want to wear shorts, I’ll wear fucking shorts. Nobodys gonna stop me. I’ve been through a tough time, and I’m not ashamed to say that I’m a self harmer. I’m not proud of it, nowhere near, but I’m not ashamed either. 
    So there you go. I have bared my soul to you and told you my life story. 
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  18. in minimaugirle8fdab762acbb8dc1's Blog


    Help, I have done it again 
    I have been here many times before 
    Hurt myself again today
    And, the worst part is there’s no-one else to blame 
    Be my friend 
    Hold me, wrap me up 
    Unfold me 
    I am small 
    And needy 
    Warm me up 
    And breathe me 
    Ouch I have lost myself again 
    Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found, 
    Yeah I think that I might break 
    I’ve lost myself again and I feel unsafe
    Be my friend 
    Hold me, wrap me up 
    Unfold me 
    I am small 
    And needy 
    Warm me up 
    And breathe me 
    Be my friend 
    Hold me, wrap me up 
    Unfold me 
    I am small 
    And needy 
    Warm me up 
    And breathe me
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  19. I believe that there is one story in the world, and only one, that has frightened and inspired us, so that we live in a Pearl White serial of continuing thought and wonder. Humans are caught—in their lives, in their thoughts, in their hungers and ambitions, in their avarice and cruelty, and in their kindness and generosity too—in a net of good and evil. I think this is the only story we have and that it occurs on all levels of feeling and intelligence. Virtue and vice were warp and woof of our first consciousness, and they will be the fabric of our last, and this despite any changes we may impose on field and river and mountain, on economy and manners. There is no other story. A man, after he has brushed off the dust and chips of his life, will have left only the hard, clean questions: Was it good or was it evil? Have I done well—or ill?
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  20. Love is an easy word, used carelessly. Felons and creeps can offer it coated in sugar, and users can dangle it so enticingly that you won’t notice it has things attached — heavy things, things like pity and need, that are as weighty as anchors and iron beams and just as impossible to get out from underneath.
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  21. You want a physicist to speak at your funeral.
    You want the physicist to talk to your family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and that none dies.
    You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.
    And at one point you’d hope the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neutrons whose energy will go on forever.
    You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around.
    According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly.
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  22. If I were a poet, that’s what I’d write about. People who worked in the middle of the night. Men who loaded trains, emergency room nurses with their gentle hands. Night clerks in hotels, cabdrivers on graveyard, waitresses in all-night coffee shops. They knew the world, how precious it was when a person remembered your name, the comfort of a rhetorical question, “How’s it going, how’s the kids?” They knew how long the night was. They knew the sound life made as it left. It rattled, like a slamming screen door in the wind. Night workers lived without illusions, they wiped dreams off counters, they loaded freight. They headed back to the airport for one last fare.
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  23. in minimaugirle8fdab762acbb8dc1's Blog


    I dont know where to begin , i just feel like every day is the same day and it really bothers me alot, like im wasting my life away, its not that i dont have a job because i know if i had one it would be the same , but then i would go to work and come home , sit down on here or watch tv? =( if i knew like would be like this at this age im in, why bother living it? 
    I do know though I have an amazing  guy that loves me, and thats what keeping me here. but still i got these strong feelings goin through my head. “end this” ” do that”  Just have a strong feeling of “doing that” on myself. I try not to think about it. damn….. I cant even sleep well. Is it fair to him that im like this?
    I cant overcome how freakin lonely i feel, and yet i cant let anyone in my life because i got no energy to be social. I dont know anymore…. i know i want a package of cigarettes to relaz with. 
     
     
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  24. in minimaugirle8fdab762acbb8dc1's Blog


    Hey
     
    was awhile i wrote on here i think? Dont have any memory when it was. Im started to think what i thought before was true. theres no h ope for me, theres no joy or happiness waiting in the right corner.  I cant even laugh anymore. I havent laughed for a looong time. only fake laughs when you laugh to make someone you are with not to think, why is she like that??
    I just mostly think horrible thoughts and cry  before i go to sleep, or i cry whenever. Now i even try to push away people so they wont come to close to me, my feelings. I want no attachement. i dont want to hurt them more than  i will when i dont want them near me.
    current thought is  Why was I born? =(
    • 0 comments


  25. in Quotes


    Anne, 
    who are you?
    Merely a kid keeping alive.
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Welcome to self-injury.net. We are a support community for self-harmers and also provide information on self-harm, creative works, media lists, lists of resources (helplines, textlines, mental health apps, therapists, etc.), etc. We focus on self-injury but a number of other mental health issues are included.

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