Remember

I remember after the first few times that i cut the cuts weren't so deep, maybe they could look like small scratches that would leave a mark, but nothing mayor. I would just sit for hours and stare at the little scars and try to remember why i did them in the first place, it was strange because i could never actually remember why they happen.

I admit that sometimes i feel so much pain inside that the pain becomes some what numb, so in order for me to feel anything i have to cut. My hands shake, my mouth gets dry, i actually feel sick, i do think a lot before i do it because at some point i know that ill lose control and that would be the end of me. I don't want my parents to see how fucked up i was, i don't think they even know i cut, cause they only see what they wanna see. Sometimes i just lay in bed and caress my scars, some are small, some are deep, but they all there, some look like a fading memory, and others like they were done just yesterday. They all have a story, a tear, a feeling, sadness, some darkness, some were because of someone and others because of something, but they all there.  

A piece of my history on my arms and thighs.