Before you make that first cut remember; you will enjoy this.
You will find everything about those first few tiny cuts addictive and you will be hooked. They will heal easily, but be in no doubt, they will get deeper. They will scar. Taking months to heal. Taking years for the scars to fade, and even then, one day, when you are sunbathing on your holidays you will find the same familiar white lines dissecting your arms. A constant state of shame.
Before you make that cut, don't lie to yourself; don't tell yourself that you will only cut your arms or your thighs. Once you run out of skin the cuts will spread, multiply; so fast that your skin will look naked without red crossing wounds along it. Wait for the few cuts, to turn to thousands.
Before you press down on that blade be ready to become a cutter, even when nobody knows that that is what you are. Be prepared for your knife to define you, and to live for the times you are one with it. For soon thinking about cutting, cutting and hiding your cuts will be the center of your universe. Be ready to be a liar, if you are an honest person, be ready to change. Practice the excuses you will make to avoid swimming, sunbathing, wearing t-shirts, skirts, shorts and sandals. Understand that you will pull away from the touch of your friends as if they have hands covered in salt to pour in your open wounds. Know that when they link your arm pure fire will run through your nerves, and that you will never hug anybody again without feeling like a cold, tense shell.
Before you break your flawless skin know that this will leave you alone. Know that you will spend hours searching, searching the skin of others for scarring, for someone like you, and know too that you will never find them. See that your heart will fall a hundred stories every time a sleeve is drawn back to reveal smooth skin, with the anguish of shame and the hollowness- of being alone.
When you make that first tiny cut just know, that there will be a time that you cut too deep. One time you will cut deeper than all the times before, just searching for that point of release that becomes buried deeper and deeper, every time you cut into your arm. Believe me, you will panic when you can't stop the bleeding, you will be too afraid to cry out of help, and so you will sit alone, cursing, praying and swearing to never take it this far again. But you will.
Remember that I warned you that after that first cut, at sometime you will be somewhere, and you will be searching for something, anything you can get your hands on, just to cut yourself open. Know that you will sit, locked in a cubicle and tease open gaping scars with safety pins or scissors, your house key or the nib of a pen. Know that this will make you desperate. Realize that blood stains will plague you where ever you go, your clothes, your bathroom floor and the sheets of your bed. You will hate your knife more than hate itself and love it, as your only friend.
Know that the moment you first spill your own blood will be held forever in your mind as a beginning but also an end to life. And never let it be said, once these words have been spoken, that you didn't know what was coming, after that first, little, cut.