I've struggled with various forms of self-harm for seven years. I should have, if I had any shred of intelligence, realised I had a serious problem long ago. However, this hasn't been the case.
Sunday 1st April 2012. I was sat on my bed, crying hysterically and scraping my knuckles along the wall until they bled. It didn't help much - it didn't have the same effect as cutting. But it was good enough. I didn't have access to any sharp object, and it was killing me. I sat there, gasping for air and pulling at my hair, repeating "I need it, I need it, I need it, I need it" over and over again.
That was less than a week ago, and it's only now that I realise I'm well and truly addicted to it.
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