I sat in the school bathroom with a bottle of pills contemplating if I should take them. But I wasn't ready to leave I had to do a few more things before I go, so instead I use my razor blade to help with my craving. My craving for pain and misery. Cutting was the best feeling to me feeling the blade against my thigh or my wrist. To me it was calming like being licked by a puppy. To some people it's excruciating. I was cutting too many cuts in my leg and arm and I didn't notice cause I was stuck with my thoughts and the voices. The voices are the ones that tell me to do the things I do. I started to notice the cuts when one: I felt hot searing pain and two: I heard dripping sounds and look down and see my own blood on the floor. So I clean myself off and clean the blood on the floor and place the blade back into my backpack. I then return to my group of friends. They ask what I was doing and said just fixing my appearance. They will never figure out or understand how depressed I am. I will never tell them cause I don't want them to worry. But it's ok I'm fine....yeah I'm fine
