The act of cutting is a simple one. Yet, it is extremely complex and confusing. It is an addiction of pain and sweet blood-stained relief.
I know I have no place to say I know it all about something that terrorizes the lives of so many. I know that somebody may come along and read this and leave a comment or some such that says something about how I "don't know shit" or how I'm "gay" or "dumb" or "emo." I don't care. You, Mr. Swag, may bug off.
Addiction
Breaking point
Fallen
Desperate for relief from the pain that stabs at my veins and the craze in my mind that I must repent for my sins is what I pray for when I pick up something sharp with thoughts of seeing my blood flow. It reminds me I'm alive and let's the sharp sting of metal through flesh putting my internal trauma away for a moment of my own to feel better before I realize that it is only for a moment that I can have this in my little time of letting my tears and blood leave. I'm better after so long and I get back up and walk back into the scary world and I try to sit still and silently again.
