DASH
Self Harm is a serious matter.... The outside people don't understand. They aren't in the "in crowd" so to say. They think we're freaks. They think that we are weak, attention seekers. But none of us are... We are just misunderstood kids who need help. Help that no one seems to give us. But I am here to say, that I will help you.
As long as you will let me.
As long as you will let me.
Self Harm -- An expression used to describe the act of hurting oneself, most of the time by cutting but also burning, breaking bones, hitting yourself etc.
It is a general view that people self harm for attention which is normally not the case. People who self harm are generally depressed and has a hard time dealing with life. Self harm also mustn't be mixed up with suicide, as it's not done for dying, but for coping with life.
Most people who self harm are ashamed and hide it, but there are those who aren't afraid to go in long sleeves (if they cut their arms) This is most of the time NOT because they want everyone to feel sorry for them.
urbandictionary.com
It is a general view that people self harm for attention which is normally not the case. People who self harm are generally depressed and has a hard time dealing with life. Self harm also mustn't be mixed up with suicide, as it's not done for dying, but for coping with life.
Most people who self harm are ashamed and hide it, but there are those who aren't afraid to go in long sleeves (if they cut their arms) This is most of the time NOT because they want everyone to feel sorry for them.
urbandictionary.com
The Real Me...
This person you see. This smiling girl that says hey in the hallway or sends a smiley face with that texts that you get. She isn't me. And I'm not her. I am sad, and lonely, and afraid of my own shadow. I am afraid of the inevitable. I am afraid of getting hurt, of failing in some way or another to where someone notices. I don't want to be noticed, but I want to be the most noticed person as well. I want that satisfaction of everyone knowing my name. Of someone recognizing me in the streets, and flagging me down. Just to say "Hi".
I didn't ask to be like this. It's just like having cancer or having autism or being gay. It isn't a choice. If you think it is, you decide one day to be depressed, and start cutting yourself over everyday things. "Oh,. my dog licked me, better cut" It doesn't work like that! "Oh, I think I'll get cancer today" Like really?? No! That is NOT how diseases work. It never has been and it never will. So don't take it like that! Ever!
I write stories, I listen to sad music. It's my way of coping. I also write on myself. All over myself in fact. Stomach, thighs, chest, neck, wrist, ankles. Anywhere that skin is accessible and it wouldn't cause me bodily harm from a sharpie. " Strong; " lays on my wrist as a constant reminder that I can push past depression's line of defense. I can live without the constance of blades and drugs and alcohol. I don't need anything but me and close friends. People I can trust and who aren't going to leave me for dumb, non-usable excuses. " HOPE " lays on my finger, just a little boost. " Love " lays on the skin above my thumb, shining a little light on the situation. An infinity symbol lays on my pinkie. A way of saying that some promises should not be broken.
I don't actually have these tattoos. But I will one day. Everyday I will see them and smile, as they are a reminder of the time I brushed past depression. I really am trying. But I am not weak and I am not selfish. I am always thinking of others. But maybe not in the "unselfish" way you'd think of. I put others before me, letting them slip into the crowd as I slip past. I stay home and cry rather than go hang with a friend and ruin their night.
Think again before you call someone "emo" for cutting. Or "weak" or "selfish" Because we aren't. I promise you we are anything but. If we were weak, we wouldn't still be here. We would have pulled in the strength and slit that blade a little deeper. We would have taken that gun and pulled the trigger. We would have jumped when we knew we couldn't fly. We would have said goodbye sooner.
I didn't ask to be like this. It's just like having cancer or having autism or being gay. It isn't a choice. If you think it is, you decide one day to be depressed, and start cutting yourself over everyday things. "Oh,. my dog licked me, better cut" It doesn't work like that! "Oh, I think I'll get cancer today" Like really?? No! That is NOT how diseases work. It never has been and it never will. So don't take it like that! Ever!
I write stories, I listen to sad music. It's my way of coping. I also write on myself. All over myself in fact. Stomach, thighs, chest, neck, wrist, ankles. Anywhere that skin is accessible and it wouldn't cause me bodily harm from a sharpie. " Strong; " lays on my wrist as a constant reminder that I can push past depression's line of defense. I can live without the constance of blades and drugs and alcohol. I don't need anything but me and close friends. People I can trust and who aren't going to leave me for dumb, non-usable excuses. " HOPE " lays on my finger, just a little boost. " Love " lays on the skin above my thumb, shining a little light on the situation. An infinity symbol lays on my pinkie. A way of saying that some promises should not be broken.
I don't actually have these tattoos. But I will one day. Everyday I will see them and smile, as they are a reminder of the time I brushed past depression. I really am trying. But I am not weak and I am not selfish. I am always thinking of others. But maybe not in the "unselfish" way you'd think of. I put others before me, letting them slip into the crowd as I slip past. I stay home and cry rather than go hang with a friend and ruin their night.
Think again before you call someone "emo" for cutting. Or "weak" or "selfish" Because we aren't. I promise you we are anything but. If we were weak, we wouldn't still be here. We would have pulled in the strength and slit that blade a little deeper. We would have taken that gun and pulled the trigger. We would have jumped when we knew we couldn't fly. We would have said goodbye sooner.