I was not part of S.A.F.E, but I’m placing it in the Alumni because I feel that is where it belongs.I’m writing this because I fell like I need to get it off my chest and so that maybe someone can read it one day.When I was 15 years old, my life was terrible, I’ve never been popular and life was difficult. I was bullied and unhappy. I don’t know what my initial motivations for S.I. were; it seemed like all the rage back then. And in a way it helped during the darker times.I believe I was 16 at the time, I was on a school trip to France, we would do education during the day and then we were free during the evenings. Unbeknown to our teachers, we would go into the bars and get drunk. This was the first time I had had alcohol and as any stupid teen I drank a bit more than I could probably handle.I went back to my room and my room-mates were already there, I can’t say the alcohol had a positive effect on my mood and I was suddenly struck with the urge to S.I. As I S.I. one of my room-mates became interested and asked why I was doing it. I can’t remember what I said but the next thing he said I remember clearly; “I dare you to S.I. really deep”.For a time I hated him for saying something like that rather than helping me, I don’t know if I was consciously crying out for help or if it was an automatic response. At the time the world seemed almost grey, withered and dead. I didn’t feel alive any more, and so didn’t have any qualms about dying.A thought struck me, “What if I regret it? What if I remember what its like to be alive, only to die?”I curled my arm up, and hurt myself.I expected pain, I expected agony and death. But nothing came.  I went to the toilet and made an impromptu band-aid with toilet paper and used the stretchy sleeve of my mandatory teen hoodie as a compression bandage.I tried sleeping but my mind was racing, it all seemed so surreal.The next day there was something different about the world, it was no longer grey but had instead taken on a slightly orange hue. I realised that my depressions, the sadness and loneliness that I felt were only products of my thoughts and emotions.The 6 years since then has been the happiest of my life because I chose them to be. My mother cried when she saw it, I kept it hidden for a while but it is quite big, one day I will tell her that I love her but that the scar saved my life and serves as a reminder.Although depressions and loneliness still grips me from time to time I reach for she smooth part on my arm where I can no longer feel the touch of my own finger and I’m reminded that I am still alive, and that it is ultimately my choice to be happy.Happily ever after,Bjorn