My "I"s when i was 15


i started cutting myself using a pen on my wrist. i wanted to know how it feels like. To hurt myself. To feel pain physically. Wondering if what i was feeling inside could be compared to how much i hurt outside. Another part of me thought cutting wrists was cool. I was very fascinated with the whole idea of depression, up until now actually. i wanted people to know that i was depressed.i was craving for sympathy. Maybe a little bit of attention too. i knew cutting myself with a pen knife doesnt leave much scars,so i experimented with blunt things, or considerably blunt pointed things. Pens, broken glasses, broken cd covers,keys, mechanical pencil tips...you name it, i might have used it.sometimes i wonder if half of the reason i did it was because i wanted to show off.and sometimes i'd reassure myself, my misery was as real as the scars on my arms. i didnt want to die anymore.i just liked the thought of wanting to die without actually commiting the death sentence. i enjoyed my sadness. my tears flowing down my face. when i dont cry, i panicked. am i happy? why should i be happy? i'm stupid, remember? nobody likes me. i learn to feel guilty everytime i had a little ounce of happiness in me.i didnt want anything anymore and yet there's part of me wishing that someone would understand,would help me and when that someone came, i felt guilty.i dun deserve any help. i dun need any help. i blew every chance i had of feeling happy.gradually i went blank.i cant think straight. everything i felt or think rushed through my brain,left residues but nothing more. when i felt happy, i felt angry, guilty...sad....i didnt know wat to think anymore. i was sinking. digging deeper into a void. it wasnt sadness or depression anymore. gradually,it was... emptiness....


p/s : cant exactly remember when i wrote dis.. ahah... there were a few things i wish to add but oh hell... lets keep it as it is...
a lot of my whirlwind crazy emotions started when i was 15... yeah.