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ritual scarification of my astral self

I needed it. I needed it more than I could ever explain to anyone. There was so much I needed to release, to get out of my body. There was even more that I needed to remember. That I needed to embrace again. The night went slowly, as we prepared. I had the design. I have had the design long before I realized what it meant. A friend took my thoughts and put them onto my flesh. It was beautiful. I had never seen it on my flesh before, but I knew that it had to be there from that point on.

It needed to be Converge. When we began it was "The Saddest Day." I didn't feel the first cut. Not at all.

"And we wont be breathing in that same sun again. None of this will ever surface again"

I felt the next. I writhed in agony. I started to let go. The knife ripped my flesh open. With the blood flowed so many of the wrongs. With the blood they are gone forever. My best friend was holding the knife. He saw what I was leaving. He saw what I would never be again. For that hour he was no longer just a friend. He was inside. He was everything that I had ever wanted. He was real for that instant, and I am afraid that will be the last time.

The endorphins hit. They hit hard. It was too much pleasure for an instant. I cried out, I twisted and it washed over me again. There was nothing but that glorious pain for an instant. The music was gone, my friend was gone, the knife was gone. For an instant it felt like I was ripping the wounds myself. I looked down at my leg. It was shocking. The blood ran, the ink was now replaced with my flesh.

The music came back. My body writhed with the sounds. I was no longer in control. My flesh was consuming me. I closed my eyes and welcomed that. The knife cut. I could feel the blade sliding through my flesh. The skin parted before it. My flesh knew that it was not in control any longer, and that it would never be again. I had left what I needed by this point. My mind soared. The pain woke me, the pain was inside then. I realized what I had done. That was the only moment that I had ever had to come face to face with what I have done. That instant of recognition killed the guilt. I knew that I had atoned for my actions. I was free again.

It was done. The cuts were made. The blood was flowing. I had what I needed. For that time I could think. I wasn't held back by inhibitions. My mind dealt with what was far too painful to think of any other time. I knew what needed to be done. From that moment forward all was going to be held dear. I wasn't going to allow myself to be numbed again.

The pain hit now. My mind spun for an instant. With the flesh cut from my leg I also cut out that which went so much deeper. He cleaned it off. It was beautiful. Blood red replaced black, and that sigil is now mine forever. No one can ever take it from me again. I couldn't allow that.

I took the alcohol. I needed to do this myself. I cleaned it again so that I could see clearly. I wiped it down with the alcohol. I struck the match. Blue flames licked at my flesh. Everything slowed. The fire lived with me for an instant. Then it was gone. It was done.

The image in my leg is not only in my flesh it is in my soul. If not a single person ever saw it, if not a single person ever commented on it I would know. No one ever has to say a word. This one time it was for me. Just me. There are people who don't understand that. They tell me that it was dumb or childish. They ask if it hurt. They ask what it means. They don't understand. They never could. This was for the one that I hold most dear. The one that I will never betray again. This one was for me. Just me.

I was asked today if I really wanted that on my leg for the rest of my life. I didn't know how to respond. I wanted to tell them that it had always been there. I wanted to tell them... I didn't say a word. I just looked away. I never have to explain this one to anyone. I know.

I didn't get cut so that I would have a pretty picture on my leg. I didn't get cut because I needed the pain. I got cut to end something. I got cut to destroy what I was becoming. I got cut to show them all that no matter what they did, what they said, that I would always be stronger. I got cut to show myself that I would always be stronger. To show myself that they could never force me into what they designed. The scars will hold it close forever. They will remind.

This is the real, this is the shame. These limbs search feverishly for the gifts of gravity, course twine tears clean. And I have thought about this instance for all time. Decades longer than you or I. Crimson comforting, scorching this flesh, giving it's caring for me. And I have thought about these moments for all time. Dangling from a silver lining, these lungs welcome the crimson tides of misfortune. Hell to pay, this is my farewell to this city. -Converge "Farewell note to this city"


submitted by: Anonymous
on: 15 May 1998
in Scarification

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