Tuesday, June 8, 2010 . 6/08/2010 01:50:00 AM

Know why I used to cut myself?

Home was the last place I wanna be. It was chaotic, cold, and lack what kids would call love.

I was feeling unloved. Dad wasn't home most of the time. And when he was, he's either not talking, or was scolding someone. Mum was her depressed self then.

I guess I was in a tight situation. Maybe that's why I've always mentioned I never had a real childhood.

In addition, I was Big Sis. I couldn't break down in front of my brothers then. There was that feeling of superiority, but looking back now, I see them as stronger than me in that situation.

There were that many penknives in my house then. A box full of them. All I had to do was take one of them to the bathroom and run it through my wrist. I was smart then. I cut it at the area where my watch would always be there to cover.

It was painful. Seeing blood made it more painful. But then, it wasn't as painful as how I felt. The feeling of helplessness, wanting to cry but not able to, and there wasn't anyone who understands. That was much painful.

It didn't help that when I entered secondary school, in a totally new environment, I was truly alone. There weren't people I could call friends. There were only people whom I called bullies and bitches, although I didn't know the meaning of that word then.

I thank God there weren't any scars from back then, but I guess the blood did it. I have quite a phobia for seeing blood now.

I thank God for the friends I have, who really cares about me. And even if no one could really understand my predicament, I can rest assure there are people by my side supporting me through and through. With smiles filled with love and warmth.