smilies.
maybe that's where it started.
i used to smoke off my feelings. and it was a mess.
after we were done smoking, my friends would grab the lighter with a smirk.
they would let the flame go for a while, making sure the metal was really
hot.
quickly, they'd turn the lighter upside down and press it against their skin for a long bit.
i'd see the slight pain in their expressions, but they'd keep pressing it.
pulling the lighter away, there on their skin, was a mark that looked like a smiley face.
"smilies." they'd say, passing me the lighter. "don't be a pussy."
and i wasn't. it didn't seem like a difficult task, and it wasn't.
i flicked the lighter so the flame would start, waiting a bit and holding it against my skin. it didn't hurt that bad.
i sort of liked it.
i placed it on my ankle. i liked that area.
i pulled it off, immediately seeing it puffing up.
"you held it too long." my friend said, and started cracking up.
mine didn't even look like a smiley. i held it wrong and for too long. maybe it was just a wrong area.
i liked the idea of slight self-destruction.
but i stopped cutting my skin.
and no matter how much i want to rip myself apart, i don't.
i don't give myself smilies either. i just hold the flame up to my skin.
i'd wish to stop this. i want to stop every feeling telling myself to rip my skin apart. i don't want to die enough for me to try.
but i keep doing this, knowing it's wrong, and pretending it helps.
