Confessions of a Cutter
I am not your typical cutter. My first cut was when I was about 19 or 20. I don't even remember the circumstance--but memory lapses are something that I've had all my life.
My first cut was on my stomach--seven/eight inches long and not deep. I do not recall doing it. I just know of the scar.
The next cut I remember more. It was punishment. A reminder to myself that I screwed up.
It is during times of despair, times of great despair, that I turn to the knife, the blade, to the razor.
There is something about the blood. The flowing of the blood that soothes.