When I first read about people self harming in a magazine article I was mortified, how could anyone want to hurt themselves? I mean, what did they gain from that? But then one day after a bad day at school I was feeling really depressed, I might have been alive physically but mentally..that was another thing, so I felt that I needed something to wake me up and somehow I didn't think that just a simple pinch was good enough so I took a pin from my noticeboard and started to scratch my skin, pressing harder and harder with each scratch until suddenly my skin tore and a spurt of deep red blood trickled down my wrist and it felt like...heaven. It was such a release, it gave me such a calm feeling, like nothing mattered and guess what? I could do this whenever I wanted and nobody could stop me because nobody would know. Eventually I sort of upgraded from drawing pins to safety pins, sometimes in school I would sit with my hand under the desk and weave saftey pins through the palm of my hand, which was useful when I was having a particularly terrible day, nobody would notice. But then I went onto knives and scissors which gave me a bigger kick than pins but I knew I couldn't take these into school, so I got them from school. It felt bad at first, like I was stealing, but I needed to - I was desperate, I walked as casually as possible over to the art block and looked through the glass of Mrs Havisham's door, she was on her break and had left the door unlocked. I quickly went into her room and slid open the scissor draw, I took the first pair I saw barely looking at what I was doing and quickly walked out. I sauntered back to the toilets and locked myself in the cubicle, a couple of year seven's were loitering or adjusting their make up but they wouldn't notice if I was in the toilet too long. I slid up the sleeve of my blazer and unbuttoned the cuff of my blouse, I then slid up the sleeve of my blouse and then took one blade of the scissors and pressed it into my wrist. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and then cut.

The feeling is hard to describe, I mean at first it hurts I suppose as it usually would when you cut your skin, but then when you feel the warm blood leave your body it kind of feels magical. I don't know why it feels like this, I wish it didn't though and that I wasn't so..addicted to cutting, it's very embarrasing when it comes to P.E lessons.

"Bella! It's nearly thirty degrees out here and you're wearing your jumper! Why? Take it off, you'll pass out if you get too hot." Mrs Bridges will call. I shrug and tell her that I can cope with the heat.

"Bella, I don't care if you think that you can cope with the heat, I can't cope with you wearing that, now take it off or I'll be very cross with you - and I've never got cross with you before, have I?" She insists. I don't bother arguing, I have a good reputation with all of the teachers, I don't want to ruin it. I carefully slip my jumper off and tie it around my waist. There is no way you can't notice the scars, the long lines of shiny puckered skin that decorate my arms. Mrs Bridges glances at them and looks alarmed but doesn't say anything because she knows it will cause chaos amongst the other girls.

The End

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