i started cutting when i was 13 and it was something about the stinging sensation which i didn't mind and it felt painful but i was compelled to doing it all over again but i didn't want to cut on my wrists. so i played it safe and cut shallow cuts on my forearm. i didnt know why i was so addicted to staring at the blood just flow down. i still don't know why until know. but slowly, i'm starting to cut higher. and deeper. it wasn't helping me but i still do so. i don't know. i don't know what's wrong with me. i'm writing this because i don't have anyone to talk to. i don't like this feeling. i can't understand what i'm feeling. i'm crying but no tears are staining my cheeks. i feel sad but i don't know why i'm sad. i hate this feeling of not knowing what i'm feeling. i just want... i don't know what i want.