scratching can lead to scars
hing can lead to scars I guess I should start at the beginning of my fascination with cutting, and scares, and the whole deal. It was a handful of years ago,at high school, when I first got a taste of the excitement (and to a degree, self fulfilment) that came with showing off scars. Alright then, first off some vital status. I was never one of the popular kids, and I was never one of the geeks. Reason being , none of them excepted me. I had no real friends, or any friends aside from morons that would say "hi" to me in pity. Plus when I look back now I was depressed, but no worries I wont bore you with my BORING life. As I sat back in class I would scratch my arm. Through bug bites, or rashes, or whatever I found out that I have very sensitive skin. Scratching hard would develop these nicely visible, slightly bleeding keloids. Scratching softly created deeply red smaller keloids. So to amuse myself in class I'd scratch and wait a while for the temporary scars to pop up. THey always had a burning sensation to them. So much, that I would stare at the forming red streaks and blow on them. It only seemed to irritated them more, and the pain heightened. To which I responded with more scratching, and more blowing. My arm was eventually left covered with red marks, peeled skin, and hints of blood here and there. I wouldn't pay attention to them for hours, and when I'd look back the swelling had gone down, or it was gone completely. Soon the boredom of school had me scratching more organized patterns and designs. Even a crude comic strip found itself on the side of my arm. But it was words that had a permanent home on my arm then drawings. It was those words that first got some attention. I was a bit of a manson fan back then and one time I scratched the word Manson on my arm. Well marilyn Manson being the band for all the socially accepted kids who call themselves "outcasts" , allowed for them to take notice and prase me for it. After that always wanted to see my new scratches. For a time this girl would scratch her arm along side me. Sometimes we got crap from the normal nice people who hold scars the furthest away from art and expression as it can get. They would be perplexed by what I would scratch into my arm. At the time I got into writing animal names on my arm. To me they meant allot. So I would show off my animal name scratches with pride, I knew what it meant. They Didn't get it one bit, and on television in the states, on a show called "20/60" i think , there had been segments on people who cut themselves. About their "deep hurt" about their "need to express that hurt" and also to get that nice feeling when they bleed. I , having all the right stereotypic qualities fit nicely in that image. So it was discarded as teenage loser crap. But when they told me I needed "help, and to get laid" laughing in my face, I didn't feel any of the pain that would come with that. My scratch was like a shell. IT was like evidence that something excited but they knew nothing about. I'm not sure how to say it, it just grabbed all the crap they threw at me and shoved it down their face and gave them a heartfelt FUCK YOU. Besides keeping me safe from their shit I thought my scratches looked awesome. With looks also came meaning. They all meant something to me. They were all in a way my children since they came from me, and i had to protect them from the world that didn't understand...but now i'm just being an idiot. The point was... there was something so fucking awesome about them, indescribable. They were perfect. The only problem with them, is that they would go away too soon.
I've lost some kick ass designs that try as I did, could never get back. I wanted them on my body for a long time. I would have to cut them in. I know that would stay because one time i cut my leg with this scrap of metal i fell on, and years later the scar was still there nice and big. Now I knew about scarification, from places like BME and all, so I knew what I had to get. What I didn't know was "HOW?" I didn't know where to go. I didn't have any friends to ask,and if i just went around asking people I would just look like some "lame depressed poser trying to be cool". I've heard that allot, and i wasn't going to let those stupid fucks who can't tell shit from crap mess this experience for me. SO eventually (after a failed half ass search) i decided to do it myself. IT was in my room with the lights turned off and a few candles burning that I first went at it. I used this small thick knife. It wasn't a army knife, but it wouldn't be used for any real heavy duty slashing. It was this cheap dollar key chain basically. But the blade was thick like a mother, so I chose it. I didn't want to mess up my arm, because I wanted there to at least be a chance to have it professionally done one day, and if i carved it up all wrong.....good bye to that idea. So i chose my leg to be the test rat. My first cut was nice and deep, straight line.( I didn't really plan any design because all i wanted was to test the process. Like when you scribble on a paper to test the ink on a pen) My second cut was directly next to it,almost expanding it like. Right then I discovered something. Cutting your leg is much more different then cutting your arm.It hurt more.....if indeed my arm actually hurt at all. I didn't have that same kind of control i had when deeply scratching my arm. That was something that I kept thinking , that i didn't have control and I didn't think i'd be able To do it. However, I kept on. THis time I started a new line. I tired to keep control by telling myself "if i had acid to burn it in i'd use it but if i want this i'm going to have to cut" This time I cut in the same line three or four times. I was satisfied with the work. I thought i had a good handle on what was expected. So as I sat there covering my wounds with paper towels i played with he blood that had poured out. I began writing on the walls with my blood. Different names and words. I was playing around with what i should carve. Finally I came up with it, i'd carve my motto "llik eid". That's what i choose. I had my heart set on my arm but now i was thinking maybe my chest. Maybe my neck despite the difficulty. Of course it did't get far, I stuck with my arm. I had planned to wait for the leg to heal to see how it would come up. However,I wanted it then and there. I couldn't wait, the sooner the better.
I was walking around pondering over this, and with my motion my cuts reopened from their slightly healing. I looked at them and came to the conclusion that they would never heal , not fast enough anyway. So it was to be done right there and then. I held the knife in my right hand and extended my left arm, who cares right? BUt I cared, I was looking at the visible veins , I didn't want to cut any. So as i cut I did it as light as possible while at the same time as deep as possible. What it ended up being like was that some lines and curves only got two deep slices, while others got three maybe four. I didn't want to risk cutting my vein. I don't have much mass to go by so it had to be done carefully over the thin skin. It went rather well, the pain as expected was much more "controlled." It did hurt though, more than scratching , but it wasn't too much. One of my concerns was that someone would come in and stop me. Because the already carved letters had began to bleed a bit. FOr those that find no appeal in this would see it as an emergency and in an instance stop me and find me "help". That would ruin this....so aside from the small pain and concern of slashing a vein, I had that horrid scene on top of me. However i got trough it, and finished my carving. Then i rolled up some paper towel like you would with toilet paper and carefully soaked the blood in. I had tied two socks together and they where in turn tied around my leg. It was real half ass since it didn't truly hold my leg cuts. So with my leg out of the way i was able to look after my new work of art that i held in my arm. I went to sleep with a crude sock thing my arm but as far as i was knew I kept almost everything off it. It healed like what would seem a week, but in reality by the second day I was in no danger of bleeding to death. It shows where i was careful and where i was comfortable. It isn't anything spectacular, or flashy, but you can tell what it is. I don't care what anyone says that it looks like shit because i did it and don't have any right doing it. Well to that i say "fuck off." I think it looks pretty good. It's a little thin and crude compared to some...but never the less "good." I'm thinking of getting scars across my wrists next....but i'm leaving that to a pro due to my fear of hurting myself too much. HOwever, i might end up doing it myself.
submitted by: Anonymous
on: 21 June 2000