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ok so one story about me going to a place i hated is
i used to cut because i felt so bad inside and haveing pain on the outside made me forget about the pain and it might have been for only i little while but it worked and i had noone to talk to very few friends who cared so id write what i felt on the wall it wasnt always happy stuff infact it almost never was and one time i was cutting myself and some of the blood got on the floor and my sister found it even though she wasnt aloud in my room my mom didnt care neither did my dad and i hated them for it but the brate tattled to the police and the sent me to this weird place were they bandaged my arms so i couldnt cut and they made me stay there i hated it so i kept trying to get out but they didnt want me to so they used those things to make me stuck to the bed then they made me do therape i hated it all those dumb therapists thinking they know exactly how you feel... i dont care what theyve been threw thereselves i dont care if theyve been through the exact same thing they still dont know how i feel about the situation.... they may have felt worse then me i dont care!!!! its the way i feel not what they think i feel....when i got back home i countinued cutting but i stopped and my sister got into my room and found the blood stains there really old now because i dont cut anymore but i dont want her to tattle i dont want to go back i know this is big but plz read
i might have to go back to the dumb place soon becasuse of my sister i hated it there everyone was so dull and no colors and i couldnt see my freinds and i couldnt see my family even if they cared enough to come