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My second 13g Play Piercing Session

I've got you to thank.
My name is Elizabeth. I'm 15 years old. I live in

Houston, Texas with my mother. My childhood has been full of abuse. Verbal, emotional, physical, sexual, and self abuse. I'm becoming bitter about it. I want to take away the happiness others got out of my pain. I want my happiness back. I want revenge in the worst possible way: letting them live with what they've done. I blocked the abuse out for so many years. I never thought about it. Then I started questioning my acts, my thoughts, my appearence. I'm very interested in body modification. It's part of my life. It's close to the whole thing. It means so much to me. Tonight I play pierced. I bled. I didn't care. I felt it. It's too bad I didn't die. It would've been so nice. I should probably go into details so that you know what's going on. It's Monday, September 24, 2001. I started play piercing, at the earliest, at 8:15 PM. I haven't been able to comprehend feelings for almost the past week. I'm not sane. I'm questioning as to if I ever was. I'm not taking most of this in. I just play pierced. I'm only just now starting to shake all over and I can feel my blood running cold through my body. I'm trying to write about this while I still have the emotions flowing and not afterwards. I'm going to try to stay here, on this plane, though. Death is bitter sweet. I just need to write about this right now. Give me some time. I'll still be here. It started, I guess, with my black and white photography. I've been editing my photos that I've taken with Photoshop to make them black and white. They seem so miraculous. Lusterous seems a fit term. I only started doing this when a "wave" of the usual depression swooped over. But this isn't the usual wave of depression. It's so much worse. I've been thinking a lot about suicide. And hurting myself. My longing for my happiness has created rage inside. I've always been able to handle this rage. But it's never been so overwhelming before, and it's started to control me. On Saturday I pierced my helix because I wanted to rid of the pain, and of the hurt, and of the rage. Today had to have gone too far. I've play pierced before. One session, one 13g needle, one scar. This session I used three 13g needles. I will have three scars. I have 6 spots of blood on my forearm. I should mention that these 13g needles were not random needles I found littered in my mother's house. They were piercing needles. They were sterile until I opened them. As well, typically, play piercing is done with needles ranging from 27g to 21g; if you can handle it they are made up to 16g (as far as I know). I did not play pierce safely. I'm not a safe girl. I did not clean the area before i pierced it. I did not wash my hands. I did not wear any gloves. I did not know if there were any veins I could hit. My rage controlled this. Don't forget that. I'm not known for losing control, which makes this event even more impacting on me than ever. I got my digital camera and deleted all of the pictures on it. I'm a fan of having pictures to remember my mods by. I got my box of sterile piercing needles from my bookshelf, determined that I would do this. Determined that I would not let my weakness overcome me again. I don't pierce myself simply for the reason that it reminds me too much of the past and how at one point my life was simply swirling down the drain, and falling apart. And I pierced myself. I felt it, but I no longer feel. What is there to feel besides nothing? Does the concept of nothing mean no other thing ever existed, or does it mean no other thing exists now? I opened the package that the needle came individually in, and took a picture. Before. I put the needle to my upper forearm and started to push. I thought to myself, "Don't feel Elizabeth. You aren't going to feel this. Don't feel." The needle went in slowly because I made it do so. I could feel the back of the needle pressing hard into my thumb. I pushed harder. The bevel disappeared into my skin and punctured the skin again, but this time going out instead of in. The needle was pressing harder and I could feel the blood rushing to it. I pushed the needle hard, making it press harder into my thumb as well, and i could see the bevel again within a couple of seconds. I pushed the needle out to the point of it looking like it had about the same amount of steel sticking out from both holes, and I took a picture. The first time I'd done this the first needle had hurt so bad that I couldn't bring myself to put anymore in. I'm singing right now. Singing brings me closer to a God that I do not worship, and often do not believe in. It's a spiritual activity for me. I picked up a second needle out of the box, now sitting on my floor. I was determined to do this. I was going to go through with it. I would have the marks to prove it. I opened the package, put it with the first one, and took another picture. Before. I put the needle up to my forearm, this time further down so that I wouldn't accidently lose even more control and make the needle go all over the place and have my hand hit the first needle. I pressed on the needle against my skin. This needle went in smoother than the last one, and was in within about 5 seconds (my thumb sore again fro mthe resistance of the needle against my skin). The only catch was that there was a little flap of skin hanging off. I didn't worry about it. the needle would be out soon, so I ignored it. I, once again, pushed the needle through so that there was about as much metal sticking out from each hole, and took a picture. I started thinking, "Go for a third needle?" It was like those cartoons where you see the angel on one side and the devil on the other, and they are deciding on whether they should give into temptation or do what's right, and moral. I went for the third needle. I opened the package, laid it with the last two, and took a picture. Before. I put the third needle to my skin (further down from the second one, like before) and automatically pressed hard, as if it were an instinct. But this one hurt. I thought again, "You aren't going to feel this Elizabeth. You aren't going to feel this. Don't feel this."I kept pushing the needle. It slid in smoothly, and slid out smoothly as well. I, for the last time, pushed the needle through so that there was about as much metal sticking out from each hole, and took a picture. A picture of three needles sticking out of my skin. They needed to come out now. I pushed the first needle a little further in on the end side, then pulled it out by the side with the bevel and took a picture. After. It bled freely. This one bled the most. The blood dripped onto my pants, and I took a picture. I did the same to the second needle, then took a picture. After. This one didn't bleed much at all. Once again, I pushed the needle further in on the end side, pulled it out on the beveled side, and took a picture. After. This one didn't bleed at first, but bled after a couple of small arm movements. It bled freely. This one bled less than the first needle, but also dripped blood on my pants. I took a picture. I put the needles in the three packages still lying out, and took a picture. Next I went to clean off my arm. Cold tap water was my cleaner. I feel permeable. I can feel the music I'm listening to right now going straight through my cell membranes and sticking in the nucleus of each one. I'm enlightened. A natural high. My eyes aren't cooperating, but I'm not resisting their droopy movements. I know I want to do this again in the future, but I hope that it's not self inflicted, and that it's at a more positive time in my life.

Details

submitted by: Anonymous
on: 26 Sept. 2001
in Ritual

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Artist: self+inflicted
Studio: my+room%2C+my+mother%27s+house
Location: Houston%2C+Tx

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