They're all so worried. Worried about me. Me. Who would care about me? I hate myself so they should too. Worried. Cut. They think I cut. Just once. Maybe twice. Not even a true cut. Why am I starting? I should stop before it gets worse. Once. Twice. Unnoticeable marks on my skin. Only red marks. No blood. Just pain. Pain and pain again. I want to be like them. Act the way they do. Cut like them. It's addictive. So addictive. I only did it once. One little red mark and I'm obsessed. I walk into class, pull out my pencil, and run the dull tip over my invisible pain. I shouldn't start. I need to stop now.

-1/31/03-