Author's note (I'm sorry):

So it's going on 4 years since I wrote this and I still get email notifications from people following and favoriting it. Honestly, it makes me feel sick that people still enjoy reading this garbage, and I don't say that just because of how awful my writing used to be but more importantly because I portrayed this in all of the wrong ways. I feel like as a writer (even though my audience is small) I have a responsibility to write about sensitive subjects the right way. It's possible to write about things like self-harm or eating disorders without romanticizing it and this story definitely romanticised it and I'm sorry. I don't want any young readers to read this and think the only way to ever get better is for somebody to save you, or that self-harm is this cute quirky thing that makes boys love you. At the time I didn't know any better (I wrote this when I was 13) but I can't blame it on ignorance anymore because now I'm aware that my words can negatively influence people at risk. I'm by no means saying writers should never write about sensitive things because I think having a conversation is important and nobody ever got better by sweeping these issues under the rug. But with that being said I did that the wrong way. I remember being young and searching for these types of stories because I felt alone and wanted to read about people like me. I do understand and I'm sorry if you found this shit in a time of need. I just don't want anyone to think this is okay. I've touched on topics like this in my other stories and I'm proud of how I write about it now. I touch on how scary this addiction can get and how it makes relationships hard. But overall when I write about it now there's an underlying message that recovery is worth fighting for and something to be proud of. I know this was all longwinded and babble-ly the more I thought about it the more I felt like I needed to say something. Reading this is triggering and makes me feel sick but the way I write about it now gives me a reason to stay clean but in a harsh and truthful way that is so far from romantic. I know everyone's heard the speech and you won't believe me until you've learned for yourself but I'm going to tell you this anyway because maybe it would have knocked some sense into my younger self. Self-harm is ugly scars that ruin happy days for the rest of your life. It's the fear of ever being intimate with anyone because the scars cover your body in a display of how fucked up you used to be and take away any part of you that feels sexy. It might feel like a solution now but you're stealing so much from your future self. It's people you look up to invading your personal space and yanking your arm away reminding you that you'll never feel safe in your own skin ever again. It's looks of disgust or disappointment from superiors that will never admit they've lost respect for you now. It's struggling to explain or lying to children that ask what happened to your arm because you don't want to be the reason they learned that some people tear themselves open to feel better. It's knowing the scars will be there on your wedding day or when you hold your baby for the first time. They don't just disappear when you grow up; they'll be there on every happy day and milestone you reach in your life. It's never being able to cope with tough times normally ever again because no matter how long you've recovered the thoughts are still there and your pain is never really bad enough unless you can physically see it. It's having panic attacks over pencil sharpeners or ace bandages or the site of dripping blood. It's watching the microexpressions that express pity or revulsion from friends when they see but not everyone has the decency to keep their mouth shut. It's wearing sweaters in the summer and nearly fainting and having to rearrange your entire wardrobe so important people don't see the scars. It's finding the bravery to wear clothes where your scars are visible but crumbling when things don't go as planned; it's thinking you're a badass and will tell anybody who calls you out to fuck off but actually having a panic attack when it happens. I could keep going but writing this is bumming me the fuck out and I think I've made my point. Don't start this shit if you haven't and if you have please find a way to stop before its too late and you've altered your way of thinking forever. I'm sorry if that bummed anyone else out but if you read this story you clearly weren't looking for sunshine and rainbows. To end this I'll say recover is always possible no matter how far down the hole you are. I had the worst relapse I ever had about a month after I uploaded this story and I had to stop because I thought I was going to bleed to death but it doesn't have to take hitting rock-bottom to stop. I'm over 3 years clean now so don't let any of the above-mentioned things discourage you from trying to recover or make you think it's not worth it because it is empowering and you start to feel a lot better once you stop treating your body like shit. You find a lot of power within yourself when you find the strength to quit and watching the days you've been without it grow and grow gives you something to hold onto when you have bad days. One thing I've learned is that recovery isn't always like the stories. It isn't always people gushing about how proud they are of you or kissing your scars or any of that bullshit. If you expect that recovery will never mean anything. It has to mean something to you. That's where I bring this to an end, my friends. I'm sorry if my work ever hurt you.

Ps. I know all of the stuff above might make me seem like an insensitive asshole because a lot of the anger and frustration I have towards myself went into writing it but if anybody ever needs to PM me for help (because you totally can) I won't be that harsh. I swear I have a heart and I understand how difficult quitting can be. (And it's a lot easier to tell a stranger on the internet all of your dirty little secrets, been there done that. It helps if you're too afraid to seek help from somebody you know in real life and if everything goes to shit and you hate me you can just never reply again.) Okay, I'm really finished now, I've been writing this for like 2 hours. Just don't be stupid, stupid. Okay bye.