I have discussed cutting with my close friend many times in the past. Most of the stories are hers. One is mine. I carved a "D" into my knee in the 8th grade. I felt so stupid. It was just for attention. I mean I didn't even like the guy that much, I just felt like being emotional and doing something really stupid. Well at least I only had one sad pathetic attempt at a story, until yesterday. But this one isn't as sad or pathetic, it is just shallow and uncalled for. There was no real reason to do it, and I really had no idea what I was doing.
Lately the topic of cutting and self mutilation has been showing up more often and i usually don't know what to say, or do, so i just sit there and listen, it hurts to listen because her stories are genuine and the mutilation has a purpose, a meaning, a reason. And then things started getting extremely stressful and way too over dramatic. We were sitting in front of the fire place talking about it, well I wasn't doing much talking...just a whole lot of listening and nodding my head and sympathetic looks because I still have no clue what to say and I thought "i could never do that again" and then that night a whole bunch of shit went down there were other people involved, previous boyfriends and people that were once engaged! there was also a huge amount of alcohol involved (which, of course, always helps in these situations) and I had no idea what to do. I mean I couldn't take the drama anymore! It was so pathetic and was completely all trivial high school bullshit that I was hoping I could escape now that summer had come around.
Then the next day I was sitting out on the step of my boss's house (I'm living there while she is on vacation) and I had my knife in my pocket. I slipped my hand in and felt the weight being lifted from my pants, the cold metal sent a shiver down my spin, but not the creepy kind, the kind that you want to experience again...almost like an extremely mild orgasm. The knife is small when closed so I held it in my hand comfortable, and before I knew what was happening and without thinking I pulled up my pant leg, my skin was so smooth...I had just shaved the night before the only imperfections were the scarred knees from when I was younger and the disgusting layer of fat on my calves, I sat there looking at my leg for a long time, probably the longest 4 minutes that I have experienced so far in my life, the cold steel of the shiny blade was still cradled in my hand. I opened the knife and inspected it, I then looked at my leg and thought "What am I doing? and why is my pant leg up?" slowly I touched the cool steel tip against the luscious, satin like skin, I pressed oh-so slightly sliced open my leg, right next to the knee. at first it didn't bleed and I was completely unsatisfied, but once I started slicing the same cut over and over again it started to trickle down my leg. It was so warm but yet so cold, almost petrifing. I cut deeper in to my leg twice more times, working the same cutting over and over. and once I had finished I cleaned them up and went to bed.
I woke up thinking "Why did I do that?" and I felt so pathetic, I don't have huge problems, my life is pretty decent, I don't want to die, and yet I still did it, I still sliced open my body...and not just once...THREE TIMES! and not just small scratches either, three huge, deep gashes in the side of my leg, the place that I used to admire for so many unknown reasons in the past. It made me so disgusted I wanted to throw up, or pass out...and yet 2 hours later I found myself cutting into my leg once more. Why am I choosing to do this. I have no problems...well...at least I didn't before, and I don't want to stop doing it. I don't want it to get worse...but I know it will. I feel so selfish and stupid. This isn't a very long, or interesting story I just left like sharing it. I guess in some self depravating way I wanted to show the world how fucking pathetic I am and how selfish people can really be.
I lost my knife today...and I looked everywhere, I tore apart my bedroom and my boss's house. It was no where to be found, I even asked my friend to help me find it, making up some pathetic excuse that I need it because it was my ex's and I love her so much and it is the only thing of hers that I have left besides a few crummy photos and a ring. I felt really horrible lying to her
submitted by: Anonymous
on: 04 July 2005