Confessions of a Self Harmer

I told my best friend today.
I hadn’t told anyone.
Until now.
I didn’t want to tell her.
I didn’t want her to see.
Why would I want that?
I thought she’d think I was gross.
But she doesn’t.
These cuts are so itchy.
And I just have to scratch.
The teacher in AVID was going on and on.
No one was looking.
I pulled down my sleeve, moved my bracelets around.
I feel so relieved when I scratch the scabs, even if it stings just a little.
But she just had to go and see my scabs.
My art.
My arm.
She wants to talk about it.
So we do.
I cry a little.
She hugs me and tells me it’s okay.
But it isn’t.
Because…I really want to cut.
But now I just think of her.
And maybe it bothers me a little…
Maybe it doesn’t.
No, it does.
An right now,
I kind of, sort of hate my best friend.