sometimes when i look down and see all the cuts and scars on my wrist i stop and think - how am i going to explain it to my future child when they ask me “mommy, what happened to your arms? and why do you have scars and marks all over your body?” how will i look into my childs face and explain to them that i would take a blade and drag it across my skin? how do i explain that im just so broken on the inside that i feel the need to express it on the outside, that its the only pain i can control? but then again i realize that i wont ever have to because who in their right mind will want to marry me, none the less lay down and bear children with me. lets face it, the way im going, i’ll be dead before i hit 20.