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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)

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.

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