Just another intro...


Hi, my name is Lizzie aka Darksoul. I'm a cutter. If you are also involved in self-harm activity, you know where I'm coming from. If you're here because a family member or a close friend engages him/herself in the activity, maybe you would like to know more about us and why we chose cutting or other form of self-harm as a coping mechanism in the first place.

To be honest, I still don't know why cutting gives me such a tremendous relief. From a biological point of view, it's caused by the low level of serotonin (neurotransmitter) in the brain. Then again, I don't buy the whole theory. All it does is provide me with an excuse to continue cutting. Though saying that, I do enjoy being labeled as 'crazy'. It is something real, as opposed to whatever is going on inside that I can't quite put into words.

Before I begin my story, I would like to talk a little bit about myself... On the outside, I'm just another 23 year-old, recently graduated with a bachelor degree in applied psychology. I enjoy meeting people, hanging out with my friends and playing the guitar. To my friends, I'm easy-going, nuts, irresponsible and playful. I don't always take life seriously, especially when it comes to my future. So, what went wrong?

I'm on Zispin at the moment. It seems so much like a trend being on anti-depressant. When I was still on Prozac, my cousin Freddie said 'Hey! At least you're on something that people have heard of. Mine? I can't even spell it!' I suppose he's got a point. Prozac is cool. There are so many books on it. Listening to Prozac, Prozac Diary, Prozac Nation... Freddie was on what you call a tricyclic anti-depressant, which means the chances of him getting an OD is much higher than me. It's so ironic, as the doctor knew damn well he was suicidal. Yet he prescribed him with something so lethal.

Even though anti-depressants are designed to rid us of depression, it hasn't done much for me. The only thing is the recognition that my pain is there, that I'm now offically a depressive. I still cut myself up to get through the day, which saddens me sometimes. Whenever I think about how this self-harm first started, I wish I knew of its addictive nature. I wish I were educated enough to know that it doesn't take away the emptiness and the pain. I wish everything were different then...


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