You know the worst part about my depression is that I'm happy. I have friends that care, a family that is there for me they don't abuse me, I'm not really bullied, and I have food water and shelter. So why do I cut? Cause I like it. I like the feeling of burning my wrist. I like the feeling of silting my wrist open. I like the feeling of warm blood rolling across my skin.   It's because I'm happy I cut.

I read some were that it was weird that people can cut themselves and not feel pain but then we stub our toes and we start crying. I don't. I don't cry. I can't. I don't know why. Nothing really hurts me anymore.