The Diary of a Cutter

It's getting harder and harder for me to lie to my friends. I feel so bad for making them believe everything is okay. I think it will make it even hard for them to believe when things get so bad they find me bleeding on the floor. Everyday I contemplate telling them what is going on but then I remember the look people give me when they find out what I've done. I'm terrified to get that look because I know that I have hurt them. I hate hurting my friends but I can't stop. It's like an itch I can only scratch with a razor blade. The feel of the cool metal slicing through my skin is so invigorating. I wonder how it got so bad so quick. I was doing great with not cutting. The first slice was great. My emotions receding with every cut I make. It's the only way I can pick up the pieces of myself so that I look sane to the people around me. I wonder if they notice the holes I can't patch up. Every once in awhile my mask slips and they catch a glimpse of how I really feel. I think eventually they will notice but will it be too late by then. My friends are the only reason I live anymore. Every time I think about killing myself, there's a voice in the back of my mind that reminds me of how devastated they would be. I wonder how long it will be until I don't here that voice again. I'm falling into a black abyss. How long before I disappear? Can anybody save me from myself?