Confessions of a Self Harmer

Kortney hates me.
That’s fine.
I hate her too.
She saw my arm.
My work of art.
She called it bad.
Called me bad.
She called it gross.
Called me gross.
Maybe not literally.
But my cuts, they are a part of me.
If she hates them,
She hates me.
So I’ll hate her more.
I’ll hate her first.
I’ll hate everything.
Except for my cuts.
And the objects that put them there.