self harm. i love it so much, but i hate it with such a passion. it ruined my whole life, but it shaped me to be the person i am now. the thing about self harm, you do it once, then you can’t. stop. it’s something about the feeling maybe, maybe it’s the bleeding afterwards, or the feeling the next day knowing you’ve got deep slashes on your body. slashes that you’d probably need stitches for, but you just wack a little plaster on them and hope for the best. the feeling before you relapse, your heart beats, and i don’t know about anyone else but i don’t cry anymore, i don’t even really need a reason anymore (but a reason is more of an excuse to actually do it). looking over at the little box that holds such power in it. a tiny blade can do so much. picking it up in your hands and knowing what’s about to come. depending on the situation, you might be angry, your breath will grow harder and harder, the grip on the blade will be tight and you’re careless with the damage you’re about to do. quickly bringing the blade to your skin and dragging it across with fast movements. the blood takes a moment to seep in if it’s deep. watching the white gash fill until it overflows, and then having to push down on for atleast 30 minutes to stop just one cut from bleeding. or, you could be doing it as a relief. instead of anger, your grip on the blade is loose, letting the sharp edge do all the work. slight pressure. and watching the skin slowly split apart. i find it hurts more if you do it slowly since the adrenaline of doing it fast kills the pain, but the feeling will come eventually. it’s so hard to stop. sometimes i do want to stop, but sometimes i feel like i physically can’t. being clean means not doing it ever again. can i even imagine that? no. will i ever be able to imagine that? i don’t know
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡht89LaQk1l
