A small dose of sadness

I frankly don't know how to write an appealing blog, so I'll write it on the most unique thing I know. I'm a cutter, It's become a very consuming addiction. Now, I've taken measures to help reduce this, with my DBT workbook and supportive girlfriend, but I should write down how it usually went.
Most times, I'd cut when my emotions were too overwhelming, the times my worry would overcome me and I needed to focus on something else, something red. The times before I met my girlfriend were hardest, nights of extreme loneliness, crying about a then unfulfilled desire to be loved without hiding my true face. The cuts were a way of numbing, the grief was too much, my longing for a hand to hold, a few nice words was too powerful on me, I needed to express, to release. Every time it'd happen, I'd feel guilty, weak and powerless, like I wanted the scars to be gone. Other times I look at the scars, and I feel there should be more, they're a part of me somehow, but a part I should fight.
To anyone feeling pain, wanting to cut or even considering suicide, it will get better. I don't know when or how, but it well get better. Keep telling yourself to hold on just for one more day, one more hour, a minute even, keep doing that, there is hope. I'm here if anyone needs to talk, I don't expect it to, but if this piece of writing helps just one soul, I'd be very content.