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   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)

It was a cut a long time ago. My cheek.

I had this image in my head of it, years ago. Spirals. Spirals of images and memories and one of a cut cheek -- one of the spirals -- went and has gone from the past until now.

Or something.

I don't know.

But now, I have a thought, turning into the more I think of it was a compulsion to cut my cheek.

But underneath the thought was a reason: to remember a specific HORROR that could have been avoided if I were stronger, or smarter, or more experienced, had more WISDOM.

So the cut, this cut, is a reminder of that. This cut is WISDOM learned but not remembered. Other than the cut.

By that I mean I did forget the shit I went through -- and possibly making the mistake again...

I cannot, this time, forget.

For if I do the pain shall repeat.

Trauma teaches one to forget.

Not remembering though means repeating destructive behaviour.

I remember after having posted this, that I purposely ran an X-Acto knife two or three times across my right cheek that night. It was gruesome and awesome. I then stumbled into the ER... When they learned it was "self-inflicted", one doctor displayed his "self-contempt" of my having done so... with his declaring, "And children could find the knife!" that I said I threw away. Guilt I have enough of. Shame I live with. Doctor's can be assholes. Such is life.

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