This is sort of like a diary entry I guess. My situation, how it made me try cutting, and then the consquences afterwards.

Just came back from a 3day music classical festival. The day before that or something I had a very, very depressing moment. It was really strange. I felt so... I can't even explain it, fed up. I felt so depressed, and I felt that my Mum was just putting down all this stress on me and I felt so strange, like I wanted her to see me. But I know she's just as stressed out as me, different kind of results, but she takes her stress out on me in constantly yelling everything, nagging tone, always, which results in me pulling out my hair. Anyway, I got so depressed, that I grabbed this little decorative fork from Singapore, and it's kinda sharp. I get so frustrated, pouring my eyes out I'm just raking at the desk, draw, steel window-frame. I was so mad. And then I thought, hey, wander what its like to do it on skin you know. Like, if so many people who were depressed cut themselves, then they had to do it for a good reason. It's like almost a centimeter wide fork, just a tiny little thing.. And before you know it I was raking over the same spot over and over again, it didn't really hurt, and there wasn't any marks at first. ANd I was still really upset thinking, oh this really doesn't hurt. And I was excited a little, because I'd never drawn my own blood before, and I know that depressed people, they drew their own blood. So I thought, I'm really upset, frustrated, why not, just keep scratching until I draw blood, then I'll never try it again, like smoking I guess, but I'll never try smoking.
It's dinner time, and I have two very iconic short lines, they're red, just scratches, and I felt so strange, like I'd just accomplised something really great. It's the strangest feeling because you know in the back of your chest that you're just extremely silly, and that I was probably selfish and attention seeking, and I realised that I was seeking attention. I really wanted my mum to see what all her yelling, all her stress has done to me. And so wearing a long sieve jumper I had dinner. Strangest feeling. Before I thought, damn, my family is so much better than me, my sister is practically perfect, her only issue is that she's new and best friend deprived. Me, I have anxiety and like OCD. Now sitting at the table they all felt like strangers, I felt like was standing on some kind of building, below on the street is my family. I really want to get down and be with them, but to do that I had to fall, and I knew addmitting to them that I was so angry and frustrated would really hurt me, and them. They were all so normal, such a normal family, my brother probably doesn't even believe in anxiety or OCD, stress disorders.
Then there was the festival. I felt like I could breath there. No one yelling at me. Man, didn't pull a hair once. Not once. (I've pulled out handfuls of hair for every night upcoming to the festival). And I was so nervous. I mean, I was in an orchestra, and I had to play all these parts by myself on a loud instrument and everyone knew I wasn't very good. Butterflies felt like they were latching babbies in my stomach every secound. Even then I didn't pull a hair. And I completely ignored the two lines on my arm. And so did everyone else. Then on the last day as were going to the bus this guy asks; 'Did you cut yourself?' My answer; 'Pfft, no, I was carrying my rat cage downstairs. Lol, I'm not "emo".' I immediatley walk away feeling like I was going to throw up. The entire way back I felt horrible just like, omg, all these people probably think I'm depressed now. My entire life I'd hidden it so well, made everyone think I was blissfully innocent and bubbly. The more I look at the cut the more I realise how impossible it is for it to be anything other than self inflicted cuts. Now I feel like such an idiot, the only people in this country I feel I have a connection to were probably talking causally as usual about different music players, and being like, Hey, does anyone else think those cuts on ****'s arm look emo to you? So stupid! My god, what was I thinking? I should have put a bandaid over it!
So there. That was my first time ever cutting muself. Although it's only been four days, I have to say, I've never had a more comforting pain, so comforting, it's so weird and hard to explain. Until that boy asked me that question i thought, wow, this cut is really good, I feel so strangely satisfied with it. And I could see why they did it. I actually had a day-dream, where I was scratching more into my arm, and I had half a dozen just randomly. But now It's like this glowing symbol I wish just wasn't there. I wish I could go back in time and just not done it. Actually. I think I still would have done it, just to experience it. Just put a bandaid over it. I've never wanted attention, and now the only people I had a chance of making friends with in this country will look at me with wander whenever they see me. Probably try to figure me out. Which I would hate so much, I don't know what I would do if they started talking about my pulling problem, I think, if a boy came up and asked me if I pulled my hair out, I would move country again, or quit music for life. I don't know.