Self harm is not a trend. It is not a joke. Never will it be funny. It will never be an acceptable way to cope. Emo is not another word for it. Cutting is not the only form. It is not always on the wrist. It also not always linked with depression. Neither is it always linked with suicide. It’s not how many scars you have, how many times you’ve been to hospital or how many mental illnesses you’ve been diagnosed with. It is not ugly. It is not beautiful. It’s not pathetic or stupid and it’s certainly does not make you any less of a person.

So what is it? Self harm is hating yourself so much you believe you deserve the pain. It’s years of abuse from others and/or yourself. It’s shallow cuts. It’s deep cuts and yes, shallow cuts are still as serious. Burning with lighters, matches, tongs, bruising your skin until you’re satisfied with the colour, smashing your bones until they break, drinking until you pass out, taking drugs until you forget. They are all self harm too. It is planning where you’re going to hurt yourself next to stop people from seeing. The constant urges, the voice in the back of your head telling you that you’re worthless, no matter how long you’ve been recovered. It’s the scars that remind you every single day the damage you’ve caused yourself physically and mentally. It’s reaching breaking point. It’s the moment where you know you’re going to have to choose between fighting or giving up.

I wish more people understood. I wish more people wanted to understand.