(Self harm mention) I have only ever told one person that I was actively cutting myself. I’m not ashamed that it used to happen, so when it came up during the year and a half while I was clean, I admitted that I had to a few friends. It was just a passing mention: a quick survey between all of us - a show of hands of who had done it before. It was a thing of the past no one had to worry about. But when I relapsed, I decided to tell one friend I was cutting. Most of the injuries are on my thighs and upper arms, so no one can see them. Although I have been stupid and harmed my forearms, it’s usually not bad enough to warrant concern - especially since I have cats. I never told her how bad it was (and it’s bad - cuts on top of cuts that are impossible to count bad) or that I would also bruise myself. She was really nice about it, but then I started to distance myself from her. Every time she told me to be safe, I felt like I loved her a little less. The more someone knows the vulnerable parts of me, the less I want them around.Why is it such a burden to be cared about? Why won’t they just let me live in peace? It annoys me. If I tell you I’m hurting, I don’t expect you to care. I’m not worth thinking about. That’s so stupid, and I just wish people would stop. Aside from not being very attractive, not enjoying the feeling of being cared for is probably a big reason I’ve never had a real romantic or sexual relationship (oh, and being on the aromantic spectrum).