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Am I still ALIVE?

I guess I should start off by telling you a little about myself. I am 21 years old and I live in a small city in South Texas. Of nine children I am the only girl, and the second youngest. So, growing up I pretty much got everything I wanted. I think all was well till I was about 10, or so I thought. It was at this age that I felt as though something was missing in my life. So, late at night while everyone was sleeping, I would sneak downstairs go to the kitchen and get a knife. I started off with superficial cuts, going down the length of my arm. They weren't deep, they were pretty much just scratches. Slowly I worked my way up to deeper cuts. I hid my cuts very well obviously, seeing as how this went on for 2 years before anyone ever found out. When my parents did find out they went all nuts, sending me to see therapist after therapist. They all asked the same question... Why? To this day I have the same answer...Sometimes I just need to do it, I am not sure why I just do. I remember everything that went on in my head when I would cut myself. I remember wanting it to hurt, and wanting it to bleed. It seemed as if though more it hurt, and the more it bled, ment that the experience just had a much more cleansing feeling to it. I was in and out of places till I was 16; of course my cuts at that point were far deeper, more meaningful, and a lot more detailed. I cut everything in my flesh from flowers and hearts to pentagrams and anarchy signs. I guess to show two extremes of my personality. It was an addiction the pain was mine and I loved it. I never wanted to die though, I just felt different inside and I didn't know how to project it on the outside. I needed to do it, to see if the pain was real, to see if I were real. I needed to make sure that I wasn't like anyone else, I needed to make sure I was still alive inside, and not dead. Not like every other mindless dead body that gets up in the morning and goes to school or work and then comes home. I was a free spirit an eagle in mid flight nobody could cage me. At 16 I was on my own. I cut on a daily basis, and I loved it. It was all of me, my every being. With out it I was simply just another average, everyday person. It was at this time that I met some one very special, she taught me a lot about myself. She showed me who I was, and why I felt so different. She also showed me how to use cutting for my own sexual gratification. She was beautiful and I loved her. The first time I was so afraid, I had never had someone else cut me. I was tied to a chair; she grabbed a razor, and slid it down my arm. It was deep, there was blood everywhere. I bit my lip to keep myself from yelping in pain. She then placed the razor close to my neck; I could feel my heart pounding with fear, yet there was a hint of excitement in the rhythm of my heart. She gently slid the razor down my neck being careful not to slice the skin open, I swallowed hard when I felt her reach my exposed breasts, she held them in her hands and with a single heart beat she cut, almost mutilating them. I was trembling in pain; yet seeing her naked body, covered in my blood excited me. She grabbed an ice cube. The cuts were fresh and hot, blood pouring out of them. Just the touch of the ice made them sting and made me move and moan in pleasure. She gently licked the blood, and kissed me. I felt my whole body in complete ecstasy. Feeling her tongue all over my body, I climaxed hard. To this day I don't think I have ever had such an experience, and to this I have not forgotten it. Yes, I saw her many times after that, but nothing can ever compare to my first experience with her. Time moved on and we went our separate ways, taking from each other the people that we both are today. It has been 5 years since then, and I have not seen my special friend in 2, and even though I have moved on to other more emotional relationships, I will never forget her. I am no longer an active cutter, I have moved on to bigger better things though like tattoos and body piercing, but I still have my moments when I need to cut. I am out of the closet lesbian that just wrote all my experiences with cutting for one main reason, to say this... It is ok to be different, and sometimes one needs to cut...Just to make sure they are still alive, to make sure that they are not just another lifeless body going through the motions of life because they have to not because they are living the way the want to.

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submitted by: Anonymous
on: 14 July 2001
in Ritual

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Artist: someone+special
Studio: my+room
Location: my+house

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