TW sh (detailed description of self harm)
I remember when I first started cutting, it was so easy for it to go on. the blade glided through my skin in a soft slice. cut slow and long to feel every moment or cut fast to see more blood. The plan was just three; but three turned to five which turned to ten which turned to a full canvas. It’s the only way I know I’m alive. Ive tried cutting over the healed scars but no matter how much I push there’s just not as much blood as there used to be. I know my only option is to cut somewhere new but the anxiety of someone seeing isn’t worth the feeling of true living.