There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about injuring. I’ve been trying to quit, and it’s almost been three months, but I just couldn’t put mind over matter, and I relapsed.

Of course it’s a secret. Anybody who knew I did it, doesn’t think I do it anymore, and my parents have no idea because I hide it. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I told them. Then again, they’re my parents. If they don’t freak, they’ll blame themselves.

Why do I hurt myself? Because it’s the ultimate problem solver. I promised myself I never would, that it was only for a certain type of “group” in one of these cliches we have around school. But although I would be labelled something completely different, I guess we’re not different from eachother at all.

I know I should stop. But I don’t want to. The only thing I regret is the scars. They’ll never go away. Other than that, it’s the ultimate problem solver.