It's not all smiles and rainbows

When I decided to write this blog I vowed that I would lay everything bare and not just make this blog about me bitching and moaning, I want people to get to know the real me and understand how sometimes in my life I have suffered alone as I developed an amazing ability to mask my true emotions and for along time this was working until I started to abuse drugs and lose control resulting in a vile creature to take over me.

Now I understand a lot of people will read this and maybe turn there noses up or think 'he's a phyco' but sometimes people have to know the truth to see how life can get to you.

Although at an early age my life was good I was in a safe stable home and although there was a touchy-feely vicar he never made me his gf so they was no environmental stimuli to push me towards the actions I took, when I was younger we had an orange bathroom suite from armitage shanks (still have orange bathroom suite) now along side this we had these really chunky taps which centre caps and they must have been coated in some sort of fine metal, I can remember peeling off a small amount of this razor sharp material and gently scoring my skin on my arm not enough to cut deeply but enough to allow small dots of blood to appear on my skin, there was a moment of panic and fear but this was soon pushed deep inside by a feeling of surprise maybe even excitement that there was no pain just blood so I started to draw lines up my arms and hands but not enough to cause alarm or suspicion but enough to satisfy my curiosity.

I was old enough to know that I could make them look like cat scratches but still so young I didn't realise it wasn't right and would soon end in therapy.

In my great wisdom I took the metal into school (primary) and tried to explain to other children that they could do it without pain, I was soon in the headmasters office surrounded by my mom a teacher and the headmaster trying to explain that it was the cat until my mom searched me and found the metal, I can't remember what happend after this until we went to a child therapist (she was so weird stared crying about how badly her husband treated her) so we didn't stay with her for a second session.

My memories of this time are really on and off but I do remember telling the second therapist that I had a imaginary friend that made me do it which was a total lie there was no voice or not sadistic tendencies  I just liked the fact it didn't hurt and the way the blood looked, although as I talk about it now I feel maybe there was something there and it was missed.

It wasn't until I started the third year in high school that I started cutting my self again but this was with a sharpener blade and still lines up my arms and once a girls name I fancied I mean nothing says I love you more than EMMA carved in your hand this soon got crossed out ( I had mastered how to cut just enough to bleed but not enough to bleed for long or scar enough for people to notice) I was bullied so badly at school as I had Tourette's and attention issues I also came for a family that had a certain amount of money this made me a target but rather than report them I started to steal money and befriend these people this was the downfall of luke howard.