The other day I got really upset for a random reason and (as is typical for me) I started blaming myself for things. I was mad at myself for crying, accused myself of being weak and thin-skinned, moving on to other bad things about me like being naive and inconsiderate, sure that through these sins, I had brought everything bad that had ever happened to me on myself. I sat and scribbled in my notebook about it in handwriting less-legible and larger than normal. I thought about how I don't deserve anything I have, and how people who are in pain and suffereing should have what I have. How I should be the one in pain. Then, abruptly, I grabbed a pair of scissors off my desk and made scrapes down my arm to the point that they were raised and red. Then I took the eraser and rubbed a small raw spot into my forearm. Both developed scabs later on. Strangely, though I had still felt the pain, I also felt a sort of relief. The physical pain drowned out the mental pain a bit. I suppose I've become sort of addicted to this pain. It blocks out all of the self-hatred. It feels good, in a twisted sort of way. And I’ve tried to stop, but I can't. I used to try to make other people mad if I was sad; I’d spit venomous words at whoever had upset me, staying very coolly evil with my attacks. If I get really upset now, I express it physically. I throw things, I rip paper, I hurt myself...it's weird, and scary, and I don't understand. My parents and brother and even my three-year-old cousin are starting to notice the band-aids on my arm. But if I don't put on band-aids, they'll see the brutal-looking scabs, and they could get infected, resulting in a visit to the doctor, and then I'd have to tell the truth. And I don't want to tell the truth. I don’t want to be seen as a freak. I just want it to stop. So can someone please try to explain what’s happening to me? I don’t want to get help. I won’t. I’m already seeing a therapist and I lie to her ever time I see her because I don’t trust her. Even if she doesn’t tell anyone, she might make fun of me to herself, and even that is something I can’t risk. I don’t trust anyone at all but myself, so can someone just explain to me what’s going on? I’m a twelve year old girl with a little brother. HELP ME!
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