Understanding Wrist Cutting

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I am a fan of omegle.com. I know that a lot of people there are having sexually related conversation but there are still some who are worth talking to. Fortunately, I found one of them but I can no longer recall her name. One way of omegle chat feature is discussing a topic. I and another stranger were given a topic to discuss which came from a third person who is watching our conversation but could not join. The topic to be discuss is is it right to cut wrist? I typed yes and the stranger said no. We have different opinions at first. Before I finish typing my sentence, the stranger typed again, "I've done that before." Guess what I replied? It is "Me, too." Yes, I did cut way back then. My conversation with her continues until she asked me why I did that. "Family problems, unmet expectations of people towards me and love life," I said. I asked her the same question and we have the same reasons. Finally, she said that she had to go. As we bid goodbye to each other we both agreed that people will never understand us. They will never feel the same pain and hurt that we are feeling during those moments. Most people will call us attention seeker or stupid but we forgive them because they didn't understand our situation. They never feel the sadness of being alone in this dark place. I started cutting my wrist when I realize that crying was no longer enough. A parent who never been there for me, siblings who doesn't like me at all, a lover who left me without a goodbye, failing grades and death of my favorite auntie, it all came to me in one shot. It was so painful. I was looking for someone to talk to but my aunt is no longer around. I try to talk to my parents but they were too busy to spare me some time. I just feel sad, lonely, depress, frustrated all at the same time. I am so hopeless and hurt and I there is no room for other emotions. All I know is that I am exceptionally sad so I cut. I cut to know if I'm still alive. But because of too much emotional pain I can no longer recognize the physical pain. I make the cuts deep till the wounds hurt. And then, I finally stopped. I am trap between holding on and giving up. Unfortunately, I choose to live some more time in this cruel world. I choose to hold on since I'm afraid to die: afraid that I might miss something in life. I'm afraid that I might lose a great gift. At the end of the night, I feel sorry for myself. I pity myself for I am so weak to face death yet. Note: This article is also published on my blog (theblacksantuary.blogspot.com)