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The Next Urban Cowgirl

Well, the first time I had decided to cut, came as a victory in an argument. I had decided that I wanted to die. Too much pressure, I had no desire to live, no one understood me, that sort of thing. I though that I would go to bed, sleep on it, and if I still felt the same in the morning, then I would go through with it. The next morning I woke up, and I was totally stoked. I thought that I would try and cut, and then if I chickened out, I would spend the day getting myself ready, and excited. I went into the bathroom, and brought back a Mach 3 razor blade. I was totally not sure if I would go through with it. I wasn't sure if I was capable. I mean, I was running out of the door, to go to school, and here I was in limbo with a razor in my hands. I returned to my room, the adrenaline tearing me apart. I began to open the little pieces of aluminum that hold the blades into the plastic. I tipped the razor, and the blades fell out one, two, three, into my hand. I grasped them, loving the sharp little incisions that they made in my fingers. I set two of them down on my desk. My mother called me, and I tossed back a reply. Not quite sure what to do, I drug the blade across the back of my left wrist. Once across, and then down, and then through those two. I had decided that I wanted to drag at least one through others, so the skin would tear a bit. I had three, but I wasn't done yet. Another across, then another, and then one down. In the back of my mind, I could hear my mother calling me. I wrapped up my arm in a Tensor Bandage, and grabbed my backpack. I followed my mother's screaming voice that was declaring that we were late. I walked down to my truck, with this funny smirk on my face. In my mind, what I had just done was create my own secret that no other person would ever have to know about. I was ready, I though, I was totally set to die. I got to school eventually, and my first block was P.E. I had to change my clothes, and when I took off my shirt, I discovered that the blood had absolutely drenched the Tensor, and was soaking through my shirt. I took off the bandage, finished dressing, and jogged out into the gym with the rest of the class. I should say, dreamily jogged out. Through out the class questions were directed at me, that I just couldn't answer. I wanted to get back to my secret world that involved blood, my blood, and my hands rejoicing in the feeling of the liquid. About half way through the class, I discovered that I could barely breathe. The teacher dismissed me, and I walked back to the change room, still with that stupid happy look on my face. My heart beating fast, and my arm coated with blood, I went to the sink. I was shocked to find that despite how hot I was, my face was a pale white. I unwrapped my arm, and rinsed it in cool water. I took the Tensor and placed it in my bag. I knew that there was another wrap in my locker, so I began to head back into the school. I dug it out, barely noticing that both of my arms were soaked with the red stuff, and I wound the cloth loosely around my arm. I went for a bottle of water, and immediately felt better. The bell rang, and I began to head towards my next class. The entire day, I was distant, and I paused between each class to look at my arm. By the final bell time, I had developed this love for blood that I know I won't ever lose. I can't describe to anyone how much I needed this. I tasted it. I wrote with it on paper. I smeared my lips and then slowly licked it off. I knew that I wanted to share this with someone, I just had to wait for the right person. When I got home that night, I no longer wanted to die. I had found something to live for. Blood. It was an everyday thing now, all of a sudden I appreciated it, and I was in love with it. That love has only grown since my first cut. Now I am looking for someone to cut me. No patterns or shapes or designs, I just want someone who loves me, to share my blood. I can think of no other thing that would be more passionate than sharing blood. I am the Urban Cowgirl. My love for the modification of my body grows at every waking moment, and I can never decide what to do next. I am now the proud owner of a scalpel, and I am just ready to go crazy. There is nothing more beautiful than a scar that you have created, and I defend myself, and everyone else who have gone from suicidal to a complete infatuation. I do this not because I hate who I am, I do it, because I am so in love with that person. Thanks for your time, help support B.M.E. there is nothing better than feeling at home, and B.M.E. does that, so thanks, happy modifying!


submitted by: Anonymous
on: 04 Sept. 2001
in Scarification

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Artist: Me
Studio: My+Bedroom
Location: My+House

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