To cry is to make me feel good, but to cut is to make me feel better. Yes I admit at one point in my life I use to cut myself quite often when I was deeply upset about something. It all started when I was in seventh grade. I was outside talking with one of my friends and she had just finished breaking a coke can in half. I looked at the sharp edge, never had I ever felt the need to cut before that moment but once I saw the beauty of it gleam in the sunlight my mind left me and what took place was pure emotion. I took the can from my friend and without thinking I placed it to my wrist, pushed down hard and dragged it across. It was incredible, I didn't feel the pain that was swarming in my head just a few minutes before. I didn't feel the stress of school, friends, or relationships. In some way you could describe I was "free" and I had never felt better. After that day everything went downhill, I started doing it more often, thinking cutting was the only way to make me feel good. When someone laughed at me, I cut. When I felt like I was nothing(which was most of the time) I cut. When I felt alone, I picked up a blade and cut. I used various items over the years such as a blade, aluminum cans, guitar strings, thorns, paper clips, glass, etc. My friends knew exactly what I was doing, of course they were upset. Whenever they saw a new addition they'd grab my arm and make me look at it, then slap it so the pain would worsen. I never saw the point of it, if anything it made me feel the need to do it again. I was miserable and later in my eighth grade year my mother found out about them, she told me to stop and I told her I would. I avoided it for awhile but just a few weeks later something occurred that made me start all over again. I must explain, I don't want to kill myself, I've never even thought of it. I enjoy living life but sometimes I have to handle things in my own way. I never cut deep enough to leave any scars it made it easier to hide what I was doing. At first I began on my arm around my wrist, then I moved to my upper arm where I could lift up my sleeves to my elbows and still be able to hide the truth. Next I moved to my shoulder where things were even easier, then my thighs, life was perfect. Then one day this year I realized I needed help, I needed to fix my life for the better. Depression was making my life dark, blinding me from the things I missed most. I picked up new hobbies and interests that kept me happy, no longer did I need to harm myself. The reasons why I would cut was because I felt worthless, like I couldn't accomplish anything and if I did, it was never good enough. I am a lot happier now, though I do have urges every once in awhile to do it again and I admit at times I do give in. Though I am still on a long journey I'm sure in do time I will be able to free myself from this burden. I hope in some way this helped somebody out there who is like me and who can realize there is still people struggling to stop. One of these days I want to help someone with the same problem, and say to them "I use to be like you."