I was thirteen. Thirteen when I started to self-harm. I remember the pain I felt, the hesitation beforehand, as I sat in my room. Safety pin in my hand, nervous that I'd go too deep.
Ha. Funny.
You can't really cut easily with a safety pin. It feels more like when a cat scratches you. But the relief. Oh that relief is sickening. All the pain in my heart, all the tears...just...stopped. I felt numb, but calm. Of course it was temporary and I needed it more and more, till it became an addiction. Like someone on drugs or alcohol.
Since then I have upgraded to a razor blade that I popped out of my mom's shaving razor.
My name is Luke. Luke Robert Hemmings. Gay, depressed, self-harmer, worthless, useless, and otherwise damaged goods. Currently im 17 and to be honest it's only a matter of time before I end it all. I'm like a ticking time bomb. Unless someone can save me.
Wishful thinking Luke.