Irrelevant.

I'm not the type to do this, I actually really hate quoting people, but it's what got me to get off of Tumblr, having been reading and looking at the most grotesque things, and realize that it might be easier to write than I think it is. I mean... If this girl could do it, feeling pretty much dead on the way I do, I could do it too. I'd like to think that I'm going to be blogging in segments here, having started with my cutting, but this had to be posted.

"Everything about life just hurts these days, it hurts so fucking bad. It hurts to wake up every morning and breath. It hurts to smile whether it’s genuine or not. It hurts to laugh and love. It hurts to trust and be trusted. It hurts every time I drag that blade across my skin but it hurts not to as well. It hurts to have hope. It hurts knowing it’s going to hurt tomorrow. It’ hurts just to be. It hurts to live altogether. It hurts having more bad days then good days. It hurts how people think every day is a good day for you. Everything just hurts. It just fucking hurts."

-

http://justanotherfeeling.tumblr.com/post/5959696654/i-swear-everyday-at-least-one-person-on-here

My romance with the blade. Part uno.

Okay. Here it goes. I'm not really ready to talk about my childhood yet, or any of my issues really, but I'll start with this...It's pretty much easy to explain.

Those pictures I have there are the scars I've inflicted on myself during these past 2 years.

I also have "STUPID" and "FAT" carved on both sides of that thigh. They're fading, so a picture wouldn't really capture them, but they're there alright.

As for my arm, that's where it all started.

When I made my first cut I was 12 years old. I was in 7th grade and I was craving attention so badly. I genuinely wanted to fit in with "druggie" crowd.

This is the best way I remember it. There was a freshman by the name of Marissa, and for some reason she was so cool to me. The fact that she cut herself and that she did drugs fascinated me. I look back now and wonder why the fuck I wanted to be like her so badly. She just had this...edge to her. Everyone just kind of...I don't know... Worshiped her? At least all my friends did. So, being the naive attention whore I was at the time, I asked my grandmother if we had a spare pack of razors and took that first little fucker in my hand.

I remember sitting on my bathroom floor with the razor held over my skin, telling myself to do it already and to stop being such a pansy. It took me an hour just to get the razor pressed on my skin. The cold metal felt wrong, so so so wrong, I felt sick at what I was about to do. I had a conscience back then. A loud one. But not loud enough.

The first cut was just a scratch. No blood. My heart was in my throat. And then it was easy. I started slashing. No gashes, just little wounds that bled to my satisfaction. I made about 200 cuts that day. On both my arms and on both my ankles. I honestly don't know what came over me. I wasn't angry. I wasn't sad. I just kept cutting and cutting until there wasn't any skin left to cut. I liked seeing all those red lines against my skin. It was, in some twisted way, really fun.

Anyway, at first it was all about the attention. HEY LOOK AT ME EVERYONE IM A CONFLICTED 12 YEAR OLD LOOK AT MY CUTS WEEE. I swear, everyone I showed freaked and I loved it.

I didn't cut after that first time until about 2 months later, and I don't really even remember why. It could be a couple of reasons, a series of stupid tween shit. But it never really became a serious problem until last summer.

I have absolutely no idea why suddenly everything went down the hill. I lost my best friend in the whole world. I trusted this girl with my life. And then one day, literally out of the fuckin' blue, she said she was done with me.

I was devastated. I would go on about how it completely destroyed me, how that marked the beginning of a terrible depression, but I don't want to talk about my actual issues yet.

Anyway, that's really why my cutting got so bad. I didn't have anyone.

....If I continue to talk about how my cutting worsened, I'll have to talk about my issues and my family and how my life spiraled downward completely, and I REALLY don't want to right now....Maybe later. But yeah. That's the first part. Part dos coming soon.

I'm going to start writing again. I don't care if it's fucking terrible. I miss the days when I didn't care if what I wrote was perfect, when I wrote just for the enjoyment of having my own innocent little story when all the characters were based on my actual friends, and I'd do with my characters what I wanted to do to my friends.

For example, this crush I'd had for like 2 years had gotten under my skin and I just ended up mutilating him to the death until I was satisfied. Insane, I know, and the writing was fucking melodramatic and just terrible, but that was so much fun.

I'd compare stories with my best friend at the time, laughing at each other because of the things we'd do to our crushes, to our friends, our enemies in these mini stories.

Oh yeah. Random picture. Thats me being all nasty and nerdy up there. ^ It's 12:30 A.M and I look absolutely icky but I wanted to express my excitement...

Carrying on...

I stopped using this blog sometime last summer, and I stopped writing all together probably sometime last winter. I stopped writing because trying to write had become the most frustrating thing for me. If it wasn't perfect, if it didn't top everyone else's writing, it was shit to me and I could not stand it.

I was going to continue to explain why I'd become such a perfectionist, why writing was no longer enjoyable for me, but there in-lies a deeper issue.

Anyway, the point of this post was to mark the beginning of my recovery with a date and everything. To tell myself that I was ready to write and by writing be ready to get better. It's hard for even me to understand why writing would be the first place to start in this incredibly long road of recovery, but thanks to Luis (whom I will give his own post to momentarily), I knew this is where it had to start.

Falalala, here I go! Wish me luck.