High school girls are mean- I'd know because I am one. A girl on my cheer team was bullied so badly that she was forced to move schools, all because people found out that she went to therapy.There was nothing even wrong with her, she went to cope with her mom having cancer. Despite this, girls shunned her and whispered fake pities about her. I stood in those circles, guilty as charged. The worst thing I did was nothing, I didn't try to defend her. In fact, I almost agreed with my friends who called her "unstable" and said things like "poor girl" (tw/ self harm) I remember seeing that girl have burn marks on her arms, years old scars from past self harm. I was scared of her, just two months ago I was thinking she was insane for purposely causing harm to herself. If only I would've known that not even a year from then, I would be sitting on my bathroom floor with a deadpan expression, carefully choosing which spots to cut with my eyebrow razor (I, like any 15 year old girl had a surplus) to get my head to just shut up. "I'm not a freak because they aren't close together in the neat rows you see in the movies," I thought to myself, "I'm not a psycho because it isn't a razor blade, this isn't self harm." The excuses kept coming, the only thing keeping tears out of my eyes, "I'm perfectly in control, I just wanted to see what it felt like." What I had done didn't register until the blood came, it just kept pouring out. I didn't think that I had even cut that deep, but it was almost pooling around me. I felt so weak, so crazy, so out of control. That's when the tears came. I sat there for hours last night crying on the bathroom floor with blood around me. When I finally got up, I went to my room and began typing on here. "Please reach out for help" the comments say, assuring that I was cared for. It was a sweet sentient, and it did help a lot, but I couldn't help but chuckle because I know for a fact that going to therapy would give me that girl's fate or worse. I could never imagine myself being the victim of the very same rumors that I contributed in. I skipped school today, in fear that somehow, everyone would know what I did last night. I feel guilty for what I did, covering my legs in band-aids because I can't bear to look at my sins. The whole day I was disassociated, sitting on the floor inside my closet with the lights off, slipping in and out of consciousness. I don't think I'm mentally ill- or maybe I just don't want to think that. I'm growing up in a merciless town with mean girls that I'm a part of. Labels would make me shunned, help would get me ridiculed. I'm a people pleaser, I care all too much about what these girls think about me and I'm so scared that one day they'll see through my perfect persona. I don't know if I need help- I do know that I don't want anyone to know about this weak side of me. I could only imagine what they would say behind my back if they knew I spent my day scrutinizing my body, trying to find the most hidden parts of my body to take my teen angst out on. Tonight was my hip, but there was no thrill. There weren't any tears like there were yesterday, there was no electricity. It just felt like a razor pulling across my skin, so I just sighed and began to write instead. If you read this all, I'm sorry. I'm just a confused 15 year old girl who's good at joining cliques, crafting personas, and cutting herself.

High school girls are mean- I'd know because I am one.A girl on my cheer team was bullied so badly that she was forced to move schools, all because people found out that she went to therapy.There was nothing even wrong with her, she went to cope with her mom having cancer. Despite this, girls shunned her and whispered fake pities about her. I stood in those circles, guilty as charged. The worst thing I did was nothing, I didn't try to defend her. In fact, I almost agreed with my friends who called her "unstable" and said things like "poor girl"(tw/ self harm)I remember seeing that girl have burn marks on her arms, years old scars from past self harm. I was scared of her, just two months ago I was thinking she was insane for purposely causing harm to herself. If only I would've known that not even a year from then, I would be sitting on my bathroom floor with a deadpan expression, carefully choosing which spots to cut with my eyebrow razor (I, like any 15 year old girl had a surplus) to get my head to just shut up. "I'm not a freak because they aren't close together in the neat rows you see in the movies," I thought to myself, "I'm not a psycho because it isn't a razor blade, this isn't self harm." The excuses kept coming, the only thing keeping tears out of my eyes, "I'm perfectly in control, I just wanted to see what it felt like." What I had done didn't register until the blood came, it just kept pouring out. I didn't think that I had even cut that deep, but it was almost pooling around me. I felt so weak, so crazy, so out of control. That's when the tears came. I sat there for hours last night crying on the bathroom floor with blood around me. When I finally got up, I went to my room and began typing on here. "Please reach out for help" the comments say, assuring that I was cared for. It was a sweet sentient, and it did help a lot, but I couldn't help but chuckle because I know for a fact that going to therapy would give me that girl's fate or worse. I could never imagine myself being the victim of the very same rumors that I contributed in. I skipped school today, in fear that somehow, everyone would know what I did last night. I feel guilty for what I did, covering my legs in band-aids because I can't bear to look at my sins. The whole day I was disassociated, sitting on the floor inside my closet with the lights off, slipping in and out of consciousness. I don't think I'm mentally ill- or maybe I just don't want to think that. I'm growing up in a merciless town with mean girls that I'm a part of. Labels would make me shunned, help would get me ridiculed. I'm a people pleaser, I care all too much about what these girls think about me and I'm so scared that one day they'll see through my perfect persona. I don't know if I need help- I do know that I don't want anyone to know about this weak side of me. I could only imagine what they would say behind my back if they knew I spent my day scrutinizing my body, trying to find the most hidden parts of my body to take my teen angst out on. Tonight was my hip, but there was no thrill. There weren't any tears like there were yesterday, there was no electricity. It just felt like a razor pulling across my skin, so I just sighed and began to write instead. If you read this all, I'm sorry. I'm just a confused 15 year old girl who's good at joining cliques, crafting personas, and cutting herself. 