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My need to bleed

Okay, this is the story of a girl who looks at her skin as a canvas.  

For a very long time now I have been fascinated with the human body. How it works, how it looks, how it bleeds. I have always been in awe of cuttings, suspensions, branding, tattoos, piercing and implants. I love the way jewelry and scars can make you so different from the person next to you. So, about a year ago, I decided to get my first intentional scar. 

When I first started out, I would design straight line patterns on paper. Then after making sure I liked them, I would cut them in to my skin with a scalpel. I never did cut too deep in the beginning, so most of those healed quickly and didn't leave much of a scar. That really upset me, so I decided it was time to cut deeper. 

After a while, I would start to cut on my arm ( most of the cuttings I had done at first were on my legs and my stomach, where no one could see them). I would always cut myself, then clean the cut, and make sure it stayed clean, until it healed into a nice scar.I never thought what I was doing was wrong, or that anyone else would see it as wrong. My older sister Brooklynn always complimented me and gave me new ideas. I thought I was just expressing myself the best way I knew how too. Boy was I wrong when I thought others would except it. 

Let me explain something. My mother doesn't really pay much attention to me, and my stepfather doesn't notice me, so neither of them knew I was cutting myself. My older sister knew, but she told me not to tell anyone else, and to keep it out of site until it was healed. I didn't really think anything of this, but I should have. 

One day in gym class, I got hit in the arm with the ball. Immediately, my arm started to bleed where I had just cut myself that morning. I rolled up my sleeve to look at my arm. It was bleeding pretty bad, so I asked if I could go to the bathroom to get apaper towel to clean off the blood. My PE teacher was pretty nosy, so she asked me why, and I told her that my arm was bleeding. She immediately grabbed my arm, and pulled up the bandage to look at it. It was pretty obvious that I had cut my self - I had neat little rows of straight cuts. My teacher freaked. She dragged me to the nurse. The nurse, actually screamed when she saw my arm. she cleaned it off,  sent me to the guidance councilor. She called my mom, and my mom came and picked  me up. 

When we got home, I wished I could have died. My mom freaked out on me, and on my sister when she tried to defend me by showing my mom her arms too. My mom wouldn't hear it. She was so darn stubborn that she wouldn't even stop yelling when we were talking to her. My stepfather just sat at the table and looked at me and my sister.Hedidn't say anything.He didn't yell at us, and he didn't defend us. He seemed like he was in his own little world. 

That night my mom put me and my sister in MaryView psyche ( the psychiatric ward at a nearby hospital). She said it was for our own good. Those 3 weeks were the worst weeks of my life. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make them see that I wasn't hurting my self, I was helping myself. Everyone just wanted to tell me how wrong I was, and that I wasn't only hurting my self but my family as well. My sister had it worse. Our mom blamed her for everything that happened. She said that I looked up to Brook, and that she was supposed to be a good role model. I tried to tell my mom that she was a good role model, and that she took care of me when no one else did. My mom just couldn't except the fact that we saw the world a different way than she did. 

 When my sister and I got out of the hospital, my stepfather helped me more than any other adult ever did. One night while I was in my room, he came in and sat down on my bed with me. He asked me if he could see my arms. I showed him, and he didn't saw a word. Instead, he pulled up his sleeve, and showed me burn in the shape of a spiral. He didn't say anything he just hugged me. He had just helped me more than he could have ever known.

My mom is still coming to terms with the fact that I'm different, but my stepfather and I have become very close because I'm different. He's taught me to cut with a purpose, and to not be afraid of it. I wouldn't recommend that you just go and cut yourself and everything will be okay. All of my cuts are premeditated, and have a purpose.


submitted by: Anonymous
on: 11 Feb. 2002
in Scarification

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Artist: ME%21
Studio: in+my+room
Location: virginia

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