Its just a part of me I tell myself as I tug on the wristband. my wristband goes up half my arm, its not for style but to hide.You may wonder what the sweet innocent girl you see walking down the hall is hiding, but they say its not so innocent. I am asking is this their body, no, I can do what ever i want to do with myself. If i don't do what I do already then well i do worse things. Tears stream down my face at home as the music completes me. The part of soda can in my hand falls as the blood oozes out. I feel complete, satisfied, and me as these new cuts bleed. People say this is the worse vice, they say stuff like drugs or starving yourself is better. Well I am about sick of it. How can it bother them if they aren't the one with arms and legs decorated with scars? I don't know why I'm here I don't know who the real me is, I don't know how to keep going on. There is one thing I do know that I want to leave this horrible world of misery, pain, and hate. I guess untill then I will just be that innocent girl.