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gaining self control

a while ago, i'd say, maybe nine months? not sure, it was sometime in the first semester of the school year...i felt again that all-too-familiar craving for a new scarification. yeah, i know; a mod simply for the sake of a mod. it sounds a bit icky, even to me. but aside from that. this particular endeavor was partially inspired by another's idea. however, i don't consider mine plagiarism, since it's such a simple concept. for this go round, i settled upon a simple five point star. i really had no idea what size, or where; usually my only requirements for such things is that they are symmetrical. so, i set about gathering the usual materials, albeit unsanitary, unsafe, unrecommended ones...stainless steel shaving razor(this one in particular was a really old antique one i found in my great grandmother's old sewing machine; thought that was a nice touch:)), some frozen object, a butterknife, a lighter, a pen, and a towel. ( i included the knife and lighter because i hadn't even decided what type of scar i wanted yet, laceration, branding, etc...) this was easy, since i make a point to keep all these tools on hand, as i use them relatively regularly. once i had my little bundle together, i walked into the bathroom and locked the door. (does anyone know what the big thing with everyone doing self mods in the bathroom is? i thought for a bit that maybe it was easy clean up, but i realized upon further thought that the thought of making a mess didn't bother me whatsoever. i just have this wacky compulsion to use the bathroom for such things. maybe it's the sense of privacy. hum.) then i stripped completely. (another quirk of mine; i prefer to be completely naked when doing mods. don't know why. anyone else do this?) i sat crosslegged in front of the full length mirror and contemplated what i was about to undertake. after a few moments of meditation, i decided upon a five point star, in the exact center of my chest. i traced the outline of a star in the decided position, taking care to make sure of it's symmetricality...(it was intended to perfectly bisect my body...however, due to slight off placement, it lies slightly to the left of my exact center.) once the outline was traced, i reached for the closest instrument of personal destruction, which happened to be the razor blade. i raised the metal disk to the intended target and pressed the cutting edge to the first point. after a few moments concentration, i applied slightly hesitant pressure and drew downwards. i instantly felt as if a vein of white hot metal had coursed through the inch long wound. i convulsed inward and pressed my hand to my chest, clenching my teeth, squeezing my eyes shut, and involuntarily succumbing to rocking body convulsions as the pain quickly faded to a dull throb, and then completely away. my hand still in place, i straightened and looked into the mirror, where blood was running between my fingers. i moved my fingers away. the sight of my skin weeping deep scarlet took my breath away. i had succeeded in making a nearly successful first cut. after staring transfixed into the mirror for a good three minutes, i turned my attention to the next task; testing out the branding method. i set down the razor blade and encircled the heavy handle of the butterknife in my bloodstained fingers. with my other hand, i retrieved the lighter and lit it. i held it under the knife for four or five seconds, until i supposed it was suffeciently heated. then, i quickly inhaled and pressed the edge of the knife against one of the pretraced lines. my entire body stiffened as i felt the burning metal quickly kill the nerves beneath it. i found that to be the most incredible feeling; overcoming of a bodily command, such as pain. i recognized the sensation as just that, a sensation, and in doing so i gained an invaluable sense of both mental and physical self control, one that i deeply value even to today. this awareness of self control is the most prominent reason why i continue to modify myself in various manners, both temporary and permanent. but back to the story. after observing the results of both steps thus far, i decided that i liked the former much better. and upon realization that the branding had completely deadened all the nerves in that area, i decided to lacerate over it. i reached for the razor, brought it to the freshly burnt strip of flesh, and without hesitation pressed it to the skin and dragged in the correct direction. i clenched my teeth in readiness, but to my surprise, i felt nothing but a slight sting. i was delighted, for in the course of my endeavors thus far, i had discovered that i much preferred the sensation of branding to that of cutting. i proceeded to follow that order for the rest of the process; heat knife, burn, let cool, cut. after about forty five minutes(that passed like five), i had a complete star. some of the cuts were very deep as a result of the relative painlessness. when i was finished, i stood and obsereved myself in the mirror. while i had been completely transfixed in the completion of the mod, blood had flowed in all directions, down my chest, on my stomach, over my breasts, dripping down my sides, onto my legs, and a small amount on the floor. some of the older liquid had dried into cracked rivulets of flaking rust, whilst the fresher amounts still seeped downward, succumbing to gravity and slowly clotting. after awhile, the blood flow stopped and i put a hand to my lower torso. it came away covered in red. i pressed the palm of the hand to the mirror in front of me, and slowly took it away. as i stood taking in the image of a blood soaked girl, and her private declaration of self on the mirror before her, i wondered if anyone else could understand the beauty i found in such an arrangement. certainly none of my family, and very few, if any, of my close friends. after climbing back out of the pool of deep thought i had lowered myself into, i wetted a washcloth and wiped the temporary evidences of my damage from the glass. i turned on the shower, stepped in, and with soft regrets ran my hands over the drying coat of red paint upon my skin and felt and saw the scalding hot water flush it away, leaving me clean and new. with the exception of the scar itself. i stepped out after a few extra minutes of the soothing liquid, and was careful to only pat dry the cutting with my towel. (i own only scarlet red towels, so no stains are observable.) then i threw my tools into a drawer, opened the door, and tumbled down the dark hallway to my bed, realizing that my short work had exhausted me. i fell onto my futon, and instantly fell into a deep, peaceful sleep, the likes of which i rarely experience. after a few days, the scar was completely scabbed over. much to my younger sisters chagrin, upon showing her, i observed that 'it looks like mozarella pizza.' to my delight, she nearly expelled her stomach contents. after a few months of it sticking to my close fitting shirts and my picking scabs, it was finally clean. over the course of healing, it had swelled somewhat, actually became prominent. two of the cuts were much deeper than the others, resulting in bolder, bigger lines. after a few more months, the scar reached its final (and curent) size, fully swollen, five prominent ridges of dark pink flesh. after so long, it's still raw due to the nerves that were exposed onthe surface during the healin and always will be. sometimes it itches furiously. since it stands out so sharply from my skin, both in color (dark pink) and texture (either perfectly smooth when i'm warm, or slightly wrinkled when i'm cold, due to lack of circulation) people often disbelieve my claim that it is indeed a scar and prefer to instead accuse me of applying bubble gum or wax, or some other such silly matter to my chest in a bad attempt to carry it off as a scar. idiots. my mother, who is extremely against almost all forms of mods, was so incensed at the (accidental; wore a low necked shirt) discovery that i was nearly witness to her head projecting itself from her shoulders and lodging in the ceiling. after i didn't break down in response the her tirade, she took me into her and my fathers room, proclaimed 'look what your daughter's done!' and left the room. dad simply looked at me for a momen, averted his eyes, and said quietly 'why did you let your mom see it?' i, of course, was delighted at his cooperation and we decided upon ignoring my mother's opinion in further such matters on the condition that i wait until i become 18 to do any more of the things. (i, unbeknownst to him, have not conformed to this stigma, but...meh.) people's general reactions to it are (in this order): 1) surprise 2) didn't that hurt? (gotta love that one.) 3) disgust 4) concern 5) aversion of my person however, i am lucky to be blessed with an assortment of wonderful friends who accept myself and my beliefs no matter what their manifestation. some even happen to agree with me on most things. although thier opinion is not a deciding factor, it certainly makes life much easier. well...that's about all i have to say about that. drop me a line if you have any questions for some wacky reason.


submitted by: Anonymous
on: 07 June 2001
in Scarification

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Artist: the+big+me
Studio: the+big+me%27s+bathroom
Location: hermiston%2C+oregon

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