This is the month that I got addicted.i would literally find any reason to cut.Something little and pointless would happen and BOOM! I would have cuts on my wrist. I was cutting almost every week probably twice a week. I still didn't quite understand the point in it or how I got addicted to it but I knew I needed to try to stop I just couldn't. I never has the courage to tell an adult so I tried to get my friends to help but that went downhill. My friend started cutting because I told her it helped so now I responsible for me cutting and her cutting. I felt so bad because I didn't want my friend to get hurt and it practically be my fault.my cuts started getting deeper and I started loving it. I loved the pain, the blood, and most of all, the scars that were left when the cuts were healed. I knew what I was doing was bad for me but it seemed good as I was doing it.Sure, I would regret it almost every time I did it but I also loved it.At this point I didn't know if I wanted to be done yet or not.
