I was in my bedroom at The Windmill and at the time a few people at school were into the self harm thing. I had a massive argument with Mum where I threw a glass at the wall and it shattered into millions of pieces on the floor. I was picking these pieces off the floor when the base of the glass (with one massive jaggered point sticking up from it) stabbed me in the wrist (the scar of which is still there). Prompted by this, in frustrated stupidity, I thought "I wander if cutting yourself actually releases frustration." So I picked up a piece of glass that was shaped into a long point and dragged it across my forearm. It didn't do a thing, not even hurt. I toddled off like my Mum going "Well I'd rather have a Baileys"
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