"i am not at all physically attracted to you"
is an absolutely valid reason to not want to date someone.
People had the nerve to call me shallow for this.
By the way, it’s also totally cool to turn someone down without explaining your reasons. You are not interested, no will suffice. Do not feel pressured to explain your decisions to someone else.
Step 1: no
Step 2: no
Step 3: n o
Step 4: n o
Step 5: no
fuck no shits about to get real personal here okay
/honestly no matter how many mental illnesses or issues you have it isn’t going to help a thing, it isn’t going to make people take you more seriously or whatever, it isn’t going to help someone come and “save” you or whatever bullshit is out there, it will make your life a living hell and all of your problems 10X WORSE. I started to cope with my anxiety/anorexia. Panicking? Slice up your skin. Don’t want to eat/feel guilty about eating? Tear up your veins!
I started out cutting on my stomach and figured that was safe because nobody would see and I couldn’t hit a vein or artery or anything, well that was completely wrong because you can really really seriously and fatally injure yourself anywhere you choose. Believe nobody who says you can’t fuck up on your legs or your stomach or ankles, chest, anywhere because that isn’t true, and I ended up moving to my wrists anyways, most people do. The wrists are the most dangerous place, too, but nowhere is the “best place” or anything. Sleeves barely keep you safe, they slip up, and don’t think you can cover them with makeup, that wears off and smudges and can infect you, bracelets slip up and cause suspicion, bandages do too. When that started everything got even worse, I had to hide my arms all the time and I started avoiding my friends due to paranoia and added anxiety. I started out cutting because of anxiety and that’s still my main reason but really it just adds more anxiety later and it’s an endless cycle.4
I got more depressed and anxious and paranoid and was like that 24/7, by the time of eighth grade I barely had any friends because I blocked most of them out. The end of eighth grade I started on my wrists and that was really, really fucking shitty because from that point on I’ve been to the ER for cutting too deep five or six times, four of them were over this past summer. The guilt from the hospital bills don’t help either.
Some “tools” are worse than others, but none of them are safe at all. I for the most part took apart little shaving razors, and eventually got my hands on real razors, like the big sharp ones you see in movies and shit, which is when I started slipping up really badly. You can go too deep with anything, though, don’t be fooled by people who recommend pins and needles and stuff.
And I, like most people, had the intention of nobody finding out, not one person, and at first it was nice because it was my little secret, but you can’t hide for long. At the beginning of freshman year was when a friend noticed, I tried lying as best I could but as most of my friends know I’m a really shitty liar in general, even if you’re a good one it still won’t work, trust me. So eventually I just said fuck it, I don’t care who knows, and pretended not to care even though it was basically tearing me apart and causing extreme, extreme paranoia because even though a good portion of my friends do self injure or used to, I couldn’t get over the thoughts that I was some kind of insane, psychotic freak, and those thoughts don’t go away no matter what anyone tells you. and then i started smoking and abusing pills and drinking and stuff to cope with that.
The addiction to cutting is awful, I regret starting more than anything else I’ve ever done. You don’t feel the addiction at first, but every time you’re anxious or sad or angry you’ll start to turn to that and slicing open your skin become the only thing you use to cope.
you’ll begin finding out what triggers your urge to cut, and will begin to see those things wherever i go. i can never look at a decent amount of everyday, household objects without thinking about tearing apart my skin, and every time i see even a small drop of blood in real life, in a movie, television show, picture game, or whatever, i get an uncontrollable itch for a pool of my blood on my bathroom floor, it fucking sucks and ruined so many things for me.
Don’t think your parents won’t find out, too. I was hospitalized (in a psychiatric hospital, not medical) for the first time in freshman year when my therapist decided to send me, and the therapist I had at the hospital casually leaked it to my parents in front of me, it wasn’t a fun experience, they cried a lot and made me feel even worse, now everytime I wear sleeves or have a band aid anywhere i get a “LAUREN YOU ARENT STILL DOING THIS CUTTING THING ARE YOU” from my dad, which is not a very fun thing to be shouted at in a public area.
It isn’t romantic, either, that’s complete bullshit. No boy or girl is going to come and “save” you, there will not be any movie moments or dramatic scenes or whatever. A lot of arguing though, especially if he/she doesn’t understand that experience. You cannot rely or depend on other people, the only person who can save you is yourself. Do not make that mistake because it will kill you.
My wrists and stomach haven’t been scar free in well over a year. I can’t remember what they look like clean. And now there are little pink and white lines all over me, on my ankles, calves, thighs, stomach, sides, wrists, upper arms, and chest, and some of them will never go away. Your kids will see them too, if you even make it to adulthood. i believe the figure is around 713,000 people are in the ER for self injury per year, and about 19% of these people end up in the morgue.
I’m 32 days clean now, which I’m rreally fucking proud of. Getting past three days is hard. After years I finally have the full will to recover, a lot of people won’t even ever get half.
you think you’re finally controlling something in your life but that is a lie, a pretty lie. it controls you. You will feel numb until you cut, you will feel tense and restless and anxious and paranoid until you cut, you won’t be able to concentrate ever, unless you just cut.
still really angry about not being frances cobain