“If people could just understand how it actually felt to be depressed, obsessed, frightened, out of control, maybe they’d be more tolerant, more understanding.”

“For the first time in months, I felt together. Sharp. In hurting myself, I had at last found a way to release the pressure.But it was more than that. I was now different. I felt different. I’d discovered a way to control my feelings. Just because self-mutilation wasn’t deemed an acceptable coping mechanism didn’t mean I was going to stop doing it”

“I didn’t feel that I had any good qualities. Or rather, none were good enough. Nothing I did or said was good enough, but I couldn’t make anyone understand the way I felt.”

“What I wanted was a simple response. I didn’t want to feel, that was too difficult. I wanted to hurt, I wanted real, tangible, physical pain. That I could understand.”

“Relief was what I was looking for that day, and I didn’t care how I got it. What I wanted - what I needed - was a pain that I could see and deal with. I couldn’t cope with the mess inside of me any longer, and cutting myself seemed to be the best solution. I knew that it would work. What I didn’t know was that I was about t engage in a behavior that was not just dangerous but highly, highly addictive.”

“Some days, it was enough just to know that I had a packet of blades in the house. They were a cold, very sharp, security blanket.”

“I had no idea that the simple act of running a sharp blade across my wrist would change everything so completely.I wasn’t after happiness anymore. I just wanted to survive.”