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The worst part of being scared of blood is I always had to come up with creative ways to hurt myself. Ways that I could do without blood. Rubber bands were usually my way of choice. I would snap my wrists all day, everyday. Nobody thought it was odd, b/c they were never around to see the raw skin under the long sleeves I wore. No one saw the welts I gave myself everyday, the skin that always looked like at any moment it would give up. The oddest part was I was hurting myself everyday for years and yet I have no scars. No signs that I used to hate myself so much. To this day my family doesn’t know. A few friends do. I told them my story one day when they talked about hurting themselves. It was in that moment I realized what I had overcome and for once, I viewed my self harm not as a sordid secret in my past but as a part in my life that made me stronger for overcoming it. I guess I posted this, because I wanted people to see that the pain they are going through now, it’s hard, but it does get better. I’m always there for people to talk to, just because there was no one for me.