A Different View on SI

Copyright, Die

Well, what I have to say, I guess would be on the other point of view on SI, or body art. Because, I don’t think cutting is a problem — at all. Unless you make it a problem or do it because you have a problem, but that’s a different story, even though most who do cut seem to have problems. Heh. But I hardly see anyone who actually do it for the pleasure of the minor “pain”. Like me. I have no problems. I do not hate myself, (nor like but being really numb to everything doesn’t mean anything). I am not depressed, I’ve never been sexually molested, etc. I do it for the pleasure, like people are into BDSM, and playing sports, I enjoy it for the same reasons. It’s a hobby, it’s fun, and it’s something to do when bored. And it “feels” good. My cuts are usually very deep to the point of stitches, but since I was taken to the mental ward, for something different, they took all of my knives and play toys from me. So now I have to find things like tearing the blade out of my razors for shaving, or breaking a lightbulb with my mallot and using the glass. Heh, it sucks, but whatever I can get my hands on, is good enough for me. I am a full blown Schizophrenic, and as said by my therapist and others I am “extremely psychotic”. That’s why I have to take my anti-psychotic meds, or “there is a great chance that I will go deeper into my psychosis and injure someone if not kill them”. Pretty messed up, huh? I mean, I’m not saying what they say isn’t relevant, because it is very much so. Heh. Just that, I don’t believe it’s “wrong” or that I’m insane. Heh. But whatever floats their boats. Even though I have stopped taking my meds, because I don’t feel they changed anything. I have no friends because I choose not to, not because I’m not liked, even though I scare most people. I do know some interesting creatures, but they don’t live near me, just 5. That’s all. I am, um, very anti-social because I can sense people’s fakeness. Too unreal. Too pretend. People aren’t good actors. So, there I am. You see me, sitting down, in all black, and you contemplate on whether to come up and say something to me. Now there’s two things I could be. I could be the most real creature in the bloody world, that thinks and knows more truth and with me, you could learn to understand and make sense that what most humans believe in is nothing but assumptions and you can live a very brutally truthful life, and most likely be sickened by mankind, or I can be some confused chick. With nothing better to do than to talk about the faults of humans and where they screwed up and keep screwing up. It’s your choice. Just remember, I’m sitting there, reading your thoughts, knowing what you want to do, but hesitate at it. Amused by it. And don’t really give a shit if you wanted to come to me or not. It’s your choice to live in a life of lies. Take out the F in life and you get your reality. Or if you want to be open…


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