She twirled around in her pearl white cashmere dress. The sun warmed her vibrant glowing skin. She spread her arms out wide and felt the coolness of the breeze spread throughout her body. She roamed through the field feeling the dew covered grass between her pale-pink painted toes. She was looking for answers, but she was asking herself all the wrong questions.
She had secrets. Even though they were on her body, no one ever suspected; however, she went out of her way to ensure that no one would ever find out.
She knew eventually everyone would find out, but she wanted them to know when she was ready. She had to accept them and come to terms with the fact that they made her who she was. She didn't know how anyone could love her scars and all, when she couldn't even love herself enough to not create them.
Day after day she tried to be what everyone wanted, what she wanted, but her best just wasn't good enough. She was not nice enough, pretty enough, thin enough, talented enough, stable enough, calm enough, just not enough. She was constantly falling apart, so she was continuously picking up the pieces. It was hard for her to not resort to creating the red razor lines on her arms or anywhere for that matter. She knew she was better than that. She didn't want to give in.
She wasn't a soldier, nor was she a veteran, but she had fought more battles than one, and she had the wounds lining her thighs and wrists to prove it. She had more weapons than soldiers are allowed to carry. She fought a new battle each night, but somehow she was still hanging on.

Sometimes at night she suddenly become aware of all the things she was missing out on, and all the people who she was not close to anymore, and all of the good times that would never happen again, and all the people who meant the world to her who have forgotten about her forever, and she gets this awful feeling that’s a mix between loneliness and nostalgia. No one knows this, except for the four walls that surround her in her darkest hours. Her bedroom walls are great at keeping her secrets because they are forced to see her at her worst. At three A.M. and unstable clinging her pillows, and wishing she had the courage to do something stupid. That was the biggest secret she had yet. The walls can keep her secrets, but they cannot keep her safe from the evil thoughts that eventually fill the room and suffocate her. The walls created a false sense of friendship trapping the thoughts in, but promising not to tell anyone what happens when the thoughts consume her.
?

Here’s the thing, this girl is me. I know it’s weird for you to be reading this, and you’re probably surprised, but people aren't always as they seem. We all carry these things inside that no one else can see. For me, it’s basically something that I have to hide and fight every day.
What people don’t understand is that self-harm is like an addiction. I started in 8th grade, and this year when everything started getting worse and worse I decided to tell my mom. It hasn't been easy, but I’m trying to get to where I want to be. I’m trying to find meaning in my existence. I want to know I’m actually here for a reason, and I know that eventually I will find the answers, but I have to keep seeking my great perhaps.
The other day, I wore short sleeves to school. It was my first time since I started, and honestly it was probably one of the worst experiences of my life. I truthfully thought I could handle it, and it was going to be like any other day, but I was wrong. The entire day I felt as if everyone was just staring at my arm, and I got overwhelmed, scared, and my anxieties had anxieties. It was so horrible. I was constantly giving myself pep talks to try to calm myself down, but I was freaking out the entire day. It was not my first time baring my arm. I wore a cutoff shirt to Edge Fest on April 27th. It was easier then because I was surrounded by strangers whom I would most likely never see again.
School is just different because I've known these people for a while, and I’m just so afraid of what they’ll think or say behind my back. It’s just something really complex to explain. You won’t really understand unless you've done it or still do it. Well, in my opinion at least.

Lastly, thank you for reading this, and what a total plot twist this was. (Right?)
I can assure you that you most definitely do not have to worry about me. I didn't share this for attention, pity, or anything of that sort. I shared it simply because I know I cannot undo what has already been done. I've struggled and fought myself and my horrible thoughts for so long now, that I feel I left out of myself, and I think it is time to accept myself for who I am, and to let go of the past, so maybe I can feel happy again.