I am a cutter. I at least was one. I started because I hated myself I think. I got stressed out and pissed off. It wasn’t my parents that were the problem, but me. I hate myself even when I am doing stuff that makes me happy. I finally stopped cutting after my f****** friends found out about it and told the guidance counselor who told my parents. I totally made it seem like I only did it once during finals week and didn’t even draw blood. I was lying. I had cut a lot and some bleed for days. I did it when I didn’t feel anything and when I felt everything. I spent entire weeks thinking about jumping and committing suicide. I almost did it twice. I still have my note. I was going to drink an entire bottle of nail polish remover. But then I thought of my mom finding me or my little brother. As I said before, I hate myself, not my family. I still hate myself so much. I still kind of want to die. No one knows the complete truth. Anyone who reads this will be the first.