Confessions of a Self Harmer

I’d read stories of people who cut themselves.
I always thought it was such a disgusting thing.
Using your own body as a carving tool.
Nothing more than a cutting board.
I’d laugh with my friends over the whole “emo” stereotype.
It was a cry for attention in my eyes.
My wardrobe may have consisted mostly of black.
But I still would smile.
And bear my arms freely.
Someone who cut could never do that.
I stayed away from shaving my legs for nearly two months after that.
I read a little more about cutting and such.
But it always made me cringe.
I rolled my eyes at the thought.
I was better than destroying my body like that.
Or so I thought.