it hurts me. please make it stop.

i stared at the messages before me. I shook and started crying. they wouldn't stop, not before my father came in and told me to stop. i did. he ran through the normal cycle. i stared at new marks on my wrists and shoulders. the pressure in my spine refused to leave. I began to sleep. my missing homework only wished to cause me suffering and usual. I started sleeping 20 minutes before the school day started. I woke up. The marks were there, a few with disgusting, brown blood on them. I loathed myself for letting them stay there. and making them in the first place. School was tiring. I ignored my newfound friends who had seen what I had done. They poked me. After a while this cycle became boring; the quantity of slits and bloody marks all over my being increasing. I felt like taking advantage of a few of the open windows before slapping myself and banging my head on the wall. my favorite personal punishment was to rip out my hair; it never grew back. My dad still hated me, nobody knew of this.