Confessions of a ex cutter

When they tell you it gets better, there telling the truth but if they tell you it ends entirely. There complete lyers. My name is Breanna. This is my story of my past, looking at a sink full of blood, waking up to the sound of kissing razors, this is my story. And there are some things i need to confess.

To this day if you ask me how it all started. I would shrug my shoulders. I had no reason to be how i was, i was just rather lost. Razors become your friend, your only hope. Though i have moved on sense then the scars will always be there to haunt me, and the tears shall always stain my face.

The first thing i need to confess is that i never would have even got the idea to cut if it wasnt for the media, they make it sound like such a good idea. In hard times you become gullable.

Cutting is like drinking, or drugs. its an addiction, it doesnt make you feel anybetter but its just a means of stress and lack of hope.

In march 2014 I attempted suicide. I drank commet bleach mixed with coolaid and drank the mixture as you feel it burn down your throat, I also overdosed on my fathers medications. I was eventually put in a mental hospital for almost a week.

On april first 2012 my friend and i ran away from home. 

Sense we got caught, i devoted to get my life on track. It probally would have never went that far if i never turned towards the blade. Let me just say this, Cutting is a waste of a perfectly good wrist.You are beautiful. Dont distroy it. 

I will admit some do it for attention, but they need help just as much as someone who tries to hide it. If you are so hopeless you slice at your wrist for attention you need help too. 

Why create scarrs? why create a hopeless lifestyle that makes you miserable? and if you do cut. I will just say this much: quit. get help. Do something more meaningful. turn to art or poetry. Have a voice. Razors are the duct tape that has hid the voice of our souls for too long. Its time we fight back. 

And if cutting is your past like it is mine, look around and you will notice. you notice the sleaves that slip on others, the indulging cries of your classmates, the bloodstains on hoodies. You can help them. You can end it. Now that its done and over with it wasnt that hard to quit. Ill admit sometimes i still want to. But im strong. your strong. And i think we all need to admit it to ourselves. Its time to confess.