For The People Who Have Hurt Me
I do it to prove that I’m alive. To feel pain. To show those that have hurt me that I can do it. To keep my smile from falling. To keep the life I’m living from leaving me. To make everyone happy. To see the blood. For the euphoria. For the rush.
All my life, I’ve been ignored, left behind. To everyone else my problems mean nothing. To hell with me. Who cares that I am emotionally abused my grandmother and mother? Who cares that I’ve overdosed? Who cares that I don’t eat? Who cares about me? This is my way of making up for it.
I’m taken all my emotional scars and bringing them to the surface. Making one pretty line with every piece of my broken heart. Carving into my flesh the the truth.
It’s true, I haven’t self- injured for long. But does that really matter. Or does no one care about that either?
I self-injure for me.
Person female, age 16, began to SI at age 16, high school student/ cashier at Target