He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he gaze long into the abyss... only to find his own reflection.

Confessions of a Cutter (Self-Harm)

I really want to hurt myself some more. I really want to hurt myself. A razor is the easiest thing to use.

It'd be difficult to break bones. And the cutting of tendons scares me too much -- as I want pain and not disability.

I'm lying back and relaxed and calm. I run my fingers over my thin flesh and muscle over my ribs and the several scars over them. And surprisingly, I want more -- more scars. More deeper scars that cut to the bone.

I pause and ask why. Why would I want to do this to myself, cut myself so deeply--

There's just something inside that wants this to happen. Just cutting into flesh and bone. No reason beyond that. I simply wait for the courage, or the equal quality, the lack of caring of the consequences.

There is the cut of the new which is wrong.
There is the cut of the existent which is probably wrong.
There is the cut of the old which is a lesson.

Writing Down the Pain
I'd like just once to fall asleep feeling good about myself. Just once. Drunken stupors do not count.