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is it just me, or do other people do it too?
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" It releases my inner, emotional pain. When I cut myself I can really feel it. "
Use the razor to shave your legs, smoke the fags and go buy a cake and knock yourself out.
Use the razor to shave your legs, smoke the fags and go buy a cake and knock yourself out.
Not all self harmers are into heavy metal and all that sorta music. Dressing in black all the time, and not all self harmers are attention seeking. Half of you don't even know what you're talking about.
I cut myself when i get stress lol not REALLY WHATS THE POINT IN DOING IT
Actually, I am quite angsty. Though, it's in a non-cliche far more cynical way. Or something.
Haha
See, I don't find The Cure angsty music, I think it's quite cheerful (staying away from album tracks from Pornography etc yada yada).
Yeah, I kind of bypassed my teen angst stage... there was once when I was 15 I started to write some sort of poetry crap before I realised the terrible cliche pitfall I was heading in, I was quite embarrassed.
Anyway, you're stuck in the 1980s old man we have all those middle aged, wealthy Americans to appeal to angsty youth about how hard it is being dumped by your sk8r gurl.
See, I don't find The Cure angsty music, I think it's quite cheerful (staying away from album tracks from Pornography etc yada yada).
Yeah, I kind of bypassed my teen angst stage... there was once when I was 15 I started to write some sort of poetry crap before I realised the terrible cliche pitfall I was heading in, I was quite embarrassed.
Anyway, you're stuck in the 1980s old man we have all those middle aged, wealthy Americans to appeal to angsty youth about how hard it is being dumped by your sk8r gurl.
Not a huge fan of either, but they seem to be the soundtrack to teen-angst.
Christ, why is it every pasty-faced kid thinks it's a coincidence that the world sucks at precisely the time puberty kicks in?
There's never a genuine reason either, it's always some vague mewling about the world "not understanding" or feeling "empty and miserable", half-baked 6th form poetry about the overwhelming darkness of misery and mumblings about wanting to end it.
Here's an alternative to your pitiful cries-for-attention:
Wash your hair, open your curtains, take off that patchouli-stinking 3-sizes-too-big black wooly jumper, try smiling at your parents, get a job and stop scribbling in your journal-of-pain about how awful everything is.
Christ, why is it every pasty-faced kid thinks it's a coincidence that the world sucks at precisely the time puberty kicks in?
There's never a genuine reason either, it's always some vague mewling about the world "not understanding" or feeling "empty and miserable", half-baked 6th form poetry about the overwhelming darkness of misery and mumblings about wanting to end it.
Here's an alternative to your pitiful cries-for-attention:
Wash your hair, open your curtains, take off that patchouli-stinking 3-sizes-too-big black wooly jumper, try smiling at your parents, get a job and stop scribbling in your journal-of-pain about how awful everything is.
I love The Cure, though anybody that dresses like Robert Smith should be shot.
Smiths are a bit over-rated.
Smiths are a bit over-rated.
Nope, never have.
Because I'm not an attention starved waif that thinks anybody is interested in the slightest in tales of self-harm.
Quick tip: Lengthways, wrist to elbow.
Either that or start a nu-metal band and scream about how the world doesn't understand you and it's all so goddamn unfair.
Mopey-ass teens sitting in their bedroom in their parents house listening to The Cure/The Smiths and crying softly because this harsh world has dented their fragile aura.
It's been done before, at least Sylvia Plath had the ability to be literate about it.
Wah wah wah
Because I'm not an attention starved waif that thinks anybody is interested in the slightest in tales of self-harm.
Quick tip: Lengthways, wrist to elbow.
Either that or start a nu-metal band and scream about how the world doesn't understand you and it's all so goddamn unfair.
Mopey-ass teens sitting in their bedroom in their parents house listening to The Cure/The Smiths and crying softly because this harsh world has dented their fragile aura.
It's been done before, at least Sylvia Plath had the ability to be literate about it.
Wah wah wah
My arms are too sexy to mutilate them.
I love you, gaybys.
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