My rivers of red

In that moment, i don’t even realise what I am doing… i’m subconsciously searching for a way out. The river of red carries the pain away until it dries up and another river blooms.

I think I always knew i was depressed. From a young age I would punish myself for everything. The youngest memory I have of me hurting myself would be the day of my 6th birthday. It used to be just verbal abuse, but as the bullying started it transformed into physical abuse – i mean, if i was hurting myself, then maybe they wouldn’t hurt me.

The very first time i held a blade to my skin was when I was 8 or 9. Like any addiction, i didn’t plan to let it last for so long. I just wanted the memories and the pain to go away.

I’ve been self harming for roughly 7 years now, and its getting harder to hide. Harder to stop. Harder to smile.

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