Slowly Breaking


For a whole year I was clean. I hadn’t self harmed for months. And then one day, a rather normal, boring day… I lost the ability to fight it. I just got tired of reminding myself to “stay strong”. And the thing is, I’m almost relieved I’ve started again – the self-hate was eating me alive and doing that to myself takes the edge off. And I know that’s bad. But it’s the truth.

After a while of self harm I realized that the appearance of my scars sooth me. When people tell me I’m not depressed or sad that I’m just going through the struggles of a teenager, I can look at my scars in privacy and I know I’m not over reacting. I am hurt. I am a disappointment to everyone. Myself, my parents, my friends. I know they hate me. I’m horrible. I hurt others by accident. It’s better to kill myself but I also feel like I don’t have the right to do so. Others have it worse. And I don’t want people to feel guilty. Even though they are kind out of pity. Even though they don’t really care. Guilt is an awful feeling. I want to be good. But I’d much rather want to be dead. And make everyone happy for once….




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