I used to be a cutter. I guess I still am as this behavior surfaces whenever I am deeply sad, anxious, upset or self-destructive and hopeless.

I first cut into my skin in my early teens, and the rush of adrenaline that I got from the sharp pain and oozing blood has never lost its power. I am being really honest here but I do like it, I like the pain and I like hurting myself. I don’t know why – some might say I am trying to punish myself for something, but for me it eases the negative feelings; it’s as if they ooze out of my soul with the dripping blood.

I have never seriously hurt myself as I don’t think I could stand that much pain – in some sick way I am jealous of people who are able to cut deep into their veins and leave big scars because somehow they are stronger than me.

I have scars. Just today the person sitting next to me at work looked at my arm and said why do you hurt yourself, and I got flustered and embarrassed. It is no one else’s business. I have had to wear long sleeves or arm bands or jewelry, to hide my wounds so many times in my life that I have created a routine: foundation when they’re red, and only cut in places that I can hide.

I also like to burn myself with cigarettes. It hurts a lot more, but I like to play with them and see if a little stab against my skin will result in a blister which I can then burst.

I still like to break razors because they’re nice and sharp, and indulge in cutting sessions with sad music and lots of tears. I don’t do it much at all so no cause for alarm, but I’m just being honest like I said, and I have to say I like it. I like pain.

I also like other kinds of pain. I fantasize about being attacked on the street so I could let my rage out and beat someone up. I have broken bones before and in some sick and sadistic way, enjoyed being weak. I like to pick scars and pull cuticles until my fingers bleed.

I hope maybe one day I will stop. It’s not that serious anyway, it is my little secret and I hate it when it comes out because I guess some might see it a bit sick. I for sure would never ever want a loved one to hurt themselves, but somehow it’s ok if I do it. My pain does not matter.



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