The absolute worst thing about cutting, is not the pain you feel while doing it, the sting you feel after, the worst thing, is hiding it from the world. My six year old cousin looked at me today, concern in her face and asked "What happened to you?"( I always thought I hid my scars well, apparently not good enough) I couldn't remember how to speak, so she finally asked "Did your cat scratch you again?" All I could do was nod my head. She offered me one of her "hello kitty" band-aids, and then gave me two more because one wasn't enough. It's been a week of pure hell, and my blade has been my constant companion. My only confidante. I try to cry but nothing comes, saltwater tears don't stain my pillow at night but red rivers that make me remember I am still alive after all. "You don't know me, and you don't even care. You don't know me, and you don't wear my chains..."