I got busted, twice when I was 11 years old.

The first time, I woke up from a nap and my father was standing over me fuming. He said, "So you want to ****ing kill yourself?! I'll help you!"

The second time, was when I had my left arm shredded and lying in a towel covered in blood. I went to the bathroom to wash away the evidence, and patch it up, but before I succeeded, my sister waltzed into the bathroom and freaked out.

Both very annoying when you want to keep your activities and self harm private.. I only learned to be more secretive, until I was willing to sacrifice control, and I got help.

Don't miss those days...

Love,
Marilyn