Dear Kitty,
            you know, the first goal I set up on here was to stop cutting myself. When I first started writing to you, all the way back in Fifth Form, self-harm was something to be conquered or beaten, and the aim was to take it out of my life. To be honest, the way I see it these days is that, as long as it's not hurting anyone else, it's my go-to coping mechanism, and I either can't or don't want to stop. Dan never really mentions it; he's never told me he wants me to stop - in fact, the closest we ever come to talking about it is when you can see the scars on my arm in sunshine, or when I had teethmarks on my stomach on Thursday next to my most recent line of cuts. I asked 'is that from you?' and he laughed and said 'yeah', and then he traced my cuts with his finger and said 'are they from you?'. When I said yes, he frowned slightly, but he didn't say anything else. I mean, we sort of talked about it one night in London, when I said I didn't know how to deal with things any other way, and his response was 'I don't know what I can do to help - I suppose all I can do is hold you when you need it until you feel better'. If he asks me to stop - well, I'd like to say I will, but I don't think it's that simple.
Yours,
     Chessie