I've always hinted at my cutting in almost all of my works but now I will be brutally honest about it. I want you all to understand my condition and whether you pity, sympathize or simply don't care is up to you for these are just my thoughts, it is just a written recording of what I've been through:
The blade, the blade, the blade. It is my best friend, it has never leaven nor forsaken me. To me it is my drug, something I can not live without, something I'd always run to. I slash away at my skin over and over again, now barely visible scars on some of the most unthinkable places on my body: my face, jaw, neck, shoulders, feet, and hands. And there are the thinkable places, my thighs, stomach and my arms. I have to say, if you've seen the scars on the thinkable places, then you would be fucking terrified at how butchered the other places were, they just heal better. I quickly cut away at myself, frantically and deeply, making sure the blood drips and flows as far as my tears had. I smile once I see the blood. I like the self destruction, I like feeling something after being numb. Because once I cry and then sit in numbness and proceed to cut myself, I go from feeling everything to feeling like I'm not even alive. It is my release. I often stare at them in the mirror and when I quickly slash and cut and butcher, my body trembles, chills run through me, moans and groans escape my lips because all I can feel is pleasure from it now. My body feels no more physical pain but I treat my cutting and my scars as a disease because society does, because my friends do, because my parents do but in all honesty, when my arm isn't dripping, when some part of me isn't continuously aching, when I take a shower and run my body under the hot water and nothing stings, I don't feel like myself, because cutting is who and what I've become.
