Cutting is like a drug and I hate it. I fucking hate it. Sometimes, I can go months and months without doing it, sometimes, I have to do it almost every day. But in the end, no matter how much time passes by, no matter how many unsightly scars I have, no matter how many time I tell myself I can't, won't, will never do it again, I just have to. It's an addiction. And I keep relapsing over and over and fucking over again. I started cutting in eighth grade (about five or six years ago) when my mom got sick. I cut every day. EVERY DAY. I'd cut before school, during school, after school, in the bathroom when I'd visit her in the hospital. Sometimes, the smallest things like a bad grade would set it off. When my mom died, I stopped cutting for about a year. I felt that since her pain and suffering was gone, mine was, too. But I was wrong. I've tried snapping rubber bands against my wrists, deep breathing, exercising, writing, drawing, listening to music, taking walks, hanging out with friends (and pretending to be okay, pretending to feel alive and happy), eating, smoking, watching funny videos or movies, and for a while it works. But somehow, even after six or seven months without feeling the need to cut, I have to do it again. I don't necessarily cut whenever I'm feeling sad; most of the time, I feel nothing at all. I hate the fact that I have to make myself bleed to feel anything. But at the same time, in a sick way, I love it. It's a rush; a sick fucking rush. All of my anxiety, tears, feelings of worthlessness (Wait...those never go away.), instantly rush out of those cuts. I've tried talking to my friends (a few of them are even former cutters) about it, and what do they ALL say to me? "Just stop." "You shouldn't do that." "Stop it!" "I love you! Don't do that!" Or they'll just slap my arms when they notice my scars. (Thanks a lot. That definitely helps. Now I feel even more worthless and ashamed than usual.) I can't fucking stand that. If I could "just stop," I would have by now. I thought that the friends who used to cut would understand, but apparently, the don't. Don't get me wrong, I love my friends very much, but "I love you! Don't do that!" just doesn't help. I wish it did. I really do. My arms are all cut up and my scars are very visible when I wear short sleeves, so all of my friends, family, classmates, professors, and even complete strangers know that I cut myself. None of them will ever understand, so that's why I'm posting this here.