Cutting .

it helps me think . It helps me breathe . My parents don't understand I need it to stay alive . I feel like I was only put on this world to hurt . When I see that blood rush out of my skin it shows me that I am alive . These scars have memories , they have meaning . This is the only way I can express how I feel . It helps me forget what I don't want to remember . No one understands how this is the one thing that helps me . People stare at my arm like I'm crazy but I'm not . Cutting is the only thing to help me fake a smile .