Reblog to let your followers know that they should never start cutting.
I know this website makes it seem like that shit is normal but trust me, it’s not. And once you start, you’ll never really start and it will haunt you for life.
It never gets easier, it never stops hurting, it isn’t (and will never be) “cool” or “the only way out”
Please don’t start. If you already are cutting, tell sometime and get help, it’s not as scary as it seems and you will be better off by it.
If even one person reads this… Please. You matter.
Don’t start.
Don’t start cutting. Once you start, it’s so hard to stop. I remember when I was younger and I saw one of my older friends cut, I couldn’t understand why someone could do that. Now I understand and I wish that I didn’t. I wish that I would never have started or have had someone to talk to. Please please don’t start cutting. It will always remind you. Yes the scars will show that you went through something and got through it. But if you haven’t starting and you’re thinking about it, don’t start cutting.
I wish someone had told me that
As someone who doesnt care about my violent coping mechanisms most of the time and doesn’t really have plans to stop, please please don’t start. I have to go against what I’m thinking in my head to write this because I don’t really think it’s that bad and that it’s a valid coping mechanism. That’s a symptom of addiction. Self harm is a chemical addiction. It lowers your blood pressure which is why it makes people feel a rush of relief at times of hightened stress. It doesn’t make stress go away. It’s like how a sugar rush won’t stop you from being tired the rest of the day. The thing is there are other ways to lower your blood pressure, there are other eays to satisfy the need to see blood, there are other ways to feel things if you’re that numb. Whatever your reasons there are other options. It is that bad. It is that dangerous. Please don’t start.
One incident can change the entire course of your future… sometimes for the worse.
~*~
It started with what was later known as “The Prank”.
James couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Sirius had told Severus about the willow – Snivellus! He had to do something. He had to stop him…
… Or… maybe he didn’t.
Severus had been a pain in their arse for so. damn. long.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for Snape to catch a glimpse of what he was up against. It could satisfy some of that insatiable curiosity he seemed to conveniently have only when the marauders were involved… A nice little dose of fear to keep him from sticking his big nose where it didn’t belong – fucking git.
Maybe Sirius was right.
Wait… what was he thinking?
~*~
By the time James’ conscience took over… it was too late. Far too late.
Severus’ death was labeled “an accident”… No one but James, Sirius, Remus and Dumbledore knew what had happened that night.
James walked out of Dumbledore’s office in a daze, dizzy with shock.
It didn’t matter that no one else knew. He knew. He knew what he’d done.
The instant of the realization, James experienced several things, starting with pure shock followed by quick-fire flashbacks. The very slight nostalgia left over from whatever affection he had for Remus was overshadowed immediately with fury; Remus had selfishly taken his anger at them for himself and denied them forgiveness, stomping on the gift they’d given him to trade comfortable adventures for the pack that had given him this curse in the first place. Not only that, but now he had the gall to follow a man endangering the people he came from, and for what? Spite?
He managed to unclench his fists with the realization that Remus would be a valuable ally. Remus never believed in what Fenrir stood for, and there was a good chance he didn’t actually believe in it now. And if Remus were closer to them, maybe James could get him to listen to what they’d done in his absence and understand the good they’d done. Lily would be so happy to have him back, and so proud of James for doing it.
And so James plastered on a smile. Not a big one, just a small lifting of lips in pleased surprise. “Remus?”Sirius jumped at the sound, his entire body tensing as he looked to James with a look that said, What the hell are you doing?
“Trust me,” James whispered.
Remus froze in his tracks as his name reached his ears. He turned slowly, one hand poised at his side, ready to reach for his wand. James and Sirius watched as his expression changed from wary investigation to recognition. James began moving closer, leaving Sirius glued to the ground behind him. Now, as the glare from the moonlight dissipated, he could see Remus clearly.
He had grown, now several inches taller than James. He had left behind the sickly disposition of his school years and had filled out around his thin frame. There were many more scars from the moons since he’d left, and some that weren’t. The skin under them was red and irritated from the closeness of the full moon, crossing exposed skin in angry, bright lines.
His eyes were also lightening with the moon’s phases, closer to an amber orange than his normal brown. Those eyes were darkened with hate and suspicion as James drew closer. The anger sparked in James again. What right did Remus have to be angry with them, after he’d betrayed them? For an instant, he wished he could make Remus pay for his sins, but he kicked himself for the thought. He was doing this for the Order, but more importantly, for Lily. James would be selfless; that’s what heroes did.
Meanwhile, Sirius felt like he’d been punched in the chest. He could see Remus where he stood, but he could see past the anger and suspicion that James saw to the deep hurt behind his hard eyes. There was little recognizable about those eyes. Despite the remnants of the alcohol coursing through his system, he felt the force of the self-loathing he thought he’d drowned and buried long ago came back full force, taking the breath from his lungs and reestablishing the aching hole in his chest that he managed to fill with cigarette smoke and cruelty. One of the last things Remus had ever said to him flooded his mind in an endless loop:
Your family would be so proud of you.
His legs felt unsubstantial under him, and he put a hand against the nearest tree for support.
Remus’s voice came low and dangerous to James’s ears. “What are you doing here?”
James put up his hands. “Remus, it’s James. It’s so good to see you—“
“What are you doing here?” Remus growled.
“We came for you, Moons. We heard you were involved with Greyback and we figured you’d been kidnapped or something—“
Remus laughed. The sound was harsh, and James cut off, stunned.
“You think I was kidnapped?” Remus asked. Suddenly the smile was gone from his face. “Fenrir took me in after you used me. The pack is my family.”
James’s laugh was wrought with disbelief, perfectly covering the indignation he felt. “What? Moony, that’s ridiculous. We’re your family.”
“What kind of family sets a werewolf on someone?” Remus snarled.
“Rem, we apologized. I tried, okay? I just wasn’t fast enough. It was an accident. Besides, it’s been years. You have no idea what we’ve done since then—“
“I know exactly what you’ve done, Potter.” The hate had returned to his eyes and darkened his tone. “You and Sirius are the Order’s executioners. I guess it had to be someone since you don’t have a wolf to do your dirty work anymore, but you two revel in it. Unforgivable curses weren’t enough, so you just had to go and create your own.” Remus shook his head. “You’re worse than Fenrir.”
James scoffed. “You’d really rather have him than us?”
“Yes!” Remus roared. “I make my own decisions! We may not agree on a lot of things, but at least he doesn’t want me dead or caged.” He looked back to Sirius, who had been slowly making his way towards them. “Get out of here, and don’t come back. I don’t want you dead, but my loyalty lies with my pack.”He turned and started towards the den.
James cursed, running his hand through his hair. Well, they had their orders, and Lily never had to know. He took out his wand and murmured the unraveling curse.
Remus screamed and fell. Sirius lurched forward but was restrained by James’s arm. “No!”
James’s concentration broke and the spell dissipated.
Remus turned around, growling, one hand clutching at missing flesh around his right eye, now entirely orange and glowing with devilish delight. “Wolves don’t rip apart that easily, Potter,” he snarled. “You should’ve just killed me.”
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