Copyright, Devinity

I can’t pinpoint the exact time I started self mutilation, better known as cutting. It was sometime back in 2001, I think, maybe earlier. Once you start it is addicting, you can’t stop. No matter how much professional help I seek.

The cuts for a long time stayed at a low number around five, not deep gashes, just enough to make my skin bleed, the cold icy blood that gives me life. But eventually the cuts got to more, 20, 30, up to 100 just on one wrist, they got deeper and deeper, no one ever noticed, I always wore my bracelets and long sleeves.

For a while I had committed to stopping, but I found myself more and more depressed and the urges got unbearable, I eventually slipped. It has always seemed I need to injure myself, to cause physical pain, to stop me from obsessing over my emoitional, mental pain.

The cuts have worsened from 100 to over 1000 all up my arms, my legs my hands, I found myself cutting every flesh I saw, I’d not only cut but throw myself down stairs and bruise myself as well. No one ever saw these things, I never told anyone.

I can’t figure out what ever started my depression and I don’t think I will ever get well. I have to find my own ways, drugs, smoking, drinking. Anything to keep my mind off things. I most of the time wish I was dead, and have tried numerous times to fullfil that wish. Never have succeded.

The scars on my body tell the rest of my past, the fresh cuts my present and the the unscarred flesh is my future…


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