My scars are more than emotional scars. I have about 20, perhaps more, of them. Oh, you can’t see them. They are not displayed beautifully across my wrist like the average cutter. I don’t wish for death or attention, or anything of the sort. I just want pain, so I cut myself on my legs, mainly my right one.

The scars they leave are wonderful – long and pink. “Pink ribbon scars,” like in the Smashing Pumpkin’s song. Because of the appearance of my wounds, I love that lyric. It is my favorite. But that is not what this is about.

I am on medication for anxiety. It apparently encourages suicidal thoughts, so I’m guessing that that is where this pain comes from. But I didn’t start really feeling this hopeless until three years into taking the medication, so maybe I am just ‘crazy.’

Sigh.

My head and my heart say different things about my ‘issue.’ My brain yells at me for being so selfish and so stupid. My heart doesn’t give a care. My heart just wants me to grab the blade and dig it into my blade over and over again. I guess it’s like an addiction. At one point of my binging cycle of self harm, I practically drove myself even more insane looking for something to cut with. I never found it and I didn’t cut again until last night.

Ah, last night. I just had this urge to slash. I added eight more scars to my count. I didn’t particularly have a reason; I was just angry and sad. When I get angry, I don’t get angry at other people, I just get angry at myself. I hear my friends complaining about other people being jerks, but I only hate myself, not others.

I’ve almost killed myself a few times and the thoughts of suicide have definitely been there, but I’ve always been stopped. Music saved me the first time, theatre the second, a good friend the third, and hope the fourth.

You see, hope is a wonderfully fabulous thing. I stay up at night, writing and wondering why I haven’t just offed myself yet, but then I remember the wonderful thing called hope and all the things I have to live for.

Anyway, I guess I got a bit off track, but somewhere deep inside of this meaningless rant is something bigger and deeper than just another angsty teen. Somewhere in there is hope to pass on to others and strength to remind others of why.