The root of so many lies in life. You lose your sense of self…suddenly you're left with nothing and you question everything: why am I here on Earth, what purpose do I serve to others…
There it is again…go on take it.. you need to feel alive again, you need to feel the pain…you are nothing without it.
And so the thoughts rage inside me. As if I really needed cutting and it wasn't a want. I know full well that cutting is a want and not a need, but sometimes the line is so blurred I don't know what to do. At times, when all is silent…I hear the hushed whisper of the blade. Sometimes I've wanted to cut so badly that I could almost feel the pain on my arm, or my scars would begin to burn.
Just one more time…it won't hurt anything…I just need it this one more time, then I'll be done…
Just one more time never worked for me. It was always just one more time after one cut, ten cuts, twenty cuts. It will never be enough…that much I have realized. If I really wanted to, I would spend the rest of my life cutting. If I let myself go, I have no doubt my body would be covered in scars. I would never get enough.
I don't want to do this. I want to be just like other people. They say I'm different. I just want to blend in. No one can see what I think, what I want…
You'll never be normal…it's not in you…come on you need to cut, it's the only thing that can get you through this week. The blade is your old faithful friend…it has never let you down…
If I were to really look at it, the blade really has never let me down. It has been there when I needed it. If I want to cut, I do it and feel better, though somewhat guilty later. If I don't do it, I suffer a bit, but then feel stronger later. But it's there if I need it. Though sometimes I do get worried…sometimes while cutting I always think I need more and more and more…that creates some very nasty scars. And then there have been times where I have gotten really angry while cutting and I made a bunch of anger slices…kind of ironic…I get angry I'm cutting, so I slash up some more.
Fuck, not again…I can't believe I did this…fuck (slash), fuck (slash), fuck (slash)…How could I be so stupid…stupid, stupid, stupid! This is never going to end, I'm always going to reach for this damn blade when I feel bad…when I can't express myself, when I just can't do anything period!
Cutting manifests itself into your core, where the real you resides. It sits there taunting you, telling you that you are nothing without the blade. You can't even make it a week without it, or a month or a year or even a few days. Done once and hooked…forever.
That's how it is with me. I want to stop, I really do, but that's just the problem. I have no way to express what I feel and don't think anyone would listen if I did. No one listens to me even when I speak out.
I'm just the bookworm. The top of the class. The know-it-all.
What people don't realise is that's just a mask. I hate it. I hate having to keep it up, but without such a way to talk I'd fade into nothing. It, however, shows nothing of my emotions. That's why I have to cut. I don't even remember how it started. Just me, and my knife, and my anger, my depression, my helplessness, my pain…
It's never going to end.