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A razorblade kiss

I have cut on and off since I was about 13. I found it a release from the loneliness that comes from being an outsider, a social misfit, one who found it difficult to fit into any one group of people. Living where I did, I found that there were very few people exactly like me, and that got me down a lot. At times I wanted to crawl into a hole and die; I felt like everybody hated me for who I was. As well as being for the release, I quickly grew to like the feel of cutting, the sting of the blade against my skin. I've always found blood itself a great turn-on. It's the nectar of life, what makes a person.

I became more happy with what I was, as I found the people who I wanted to be with; those people who didn't have anything to prove and just wanted to be themselves. But as I cut less I still longed for the scars; they had become part of me, part of who I was - I wasn't happy with being an individual person, I wanted to be one on the outside. That might sound terribly angst-ridden-teenagerish, but it was simply the way I felt. So I decided that I wanted a permanent body modification involving cutting.

My first scarification cutting was also my first bloodplay experience - the artist was a guy who I'd been getting to know while in college. I'm bisexual, in case you haven't guessed, but he wasn't. I found myself attracted to him in many ways (he bore a striking resemblance to Ville Valo from HIM), and I think he guessed, but he just wanted to remain friends. I decided that he was the person that I really wanted to do my cutting. I finally persuaded him to cut me after he himself started to experiment with this form of body modification.

We laid out the tools on the table in his front room – we had white spirit, a safety razor and a bandage. In hindsight, I am very lucky that I did not get infected from this, as well as all the other cuttings that I have done to myself. I sat down and took my T-shirt off, and we put some chilled-out music on by Portishead and Depeche Mode.

He split open the safety razor and extracted the blade. It was wonderfully sharp – I felt excited and nervous just from the knowledge that this beautiful person was going to cut me. He swabbed the area with cotton wool dipped in white spirit and cleaned the razor blade. He traced over the design on my right arm gently with the tip of the blade, only barely breaking the skin. I had decided on an upside-down cross, because I had always liked the symbol, not for any other reason – people who pretend to be "satanists" just serve to annoy me.

After the first cut, he cut harder. I always loved the feeling of skin splitting underneath the razor blade. He went over the symbol many times, cutting slightly deeper each time and cleaning the razor with cotton wool balls soaked in white spirit each time. It stung, but it hurt surprisingly little. It was more of a dull pain than anything, the sensation of pressure was slightly uncomfortable but I loved the feeling and I gritted my teeth and went through with it. I told myself that I couldn't stop - this was what I always wanted.

I felt fantastic afterwards – possibly because of the endorphins released. He did not know to cut in a V-shape, and because of his technique this cutting already shows signs of starting to heal, but I am just happy to have the cutting as I regard it now as part of who I am. The cutting also brought me and my friend much closer together. It's a good experience to share together, the excitement and shared responsibility of cutting.

My aftercare methods probably weren't the best in the world. I scrubbed the hell out of the scar as it was scabbing over, using a salt water solution. And when I wasn't scrubbing, I was picking, night and day. It probably caused it to heal with more scaring though, because I am sure if I hadn't done this it would not even be visible now.

I'm happy with it now it's done. It's a small symbol on my right upper arm, not much but I know that it's a part of me and it'll be there forever, with touch-ups. It didn't get infected, but perhaps I was just lucky. Don't try this at home, especially if your tools are as limited as ours were – it really isn't a good idea.

Since then I have done more cuttings and brandings and have always been much more careful to avoid infection. I love the experience of modifying yourself by scarring, and making scars look beautiful. They're not meant to be ugly – it's the body's natural response to injury, and something as complex as the human body is always beautiful, modified or unmodified. I don't care what others say, because they can say what they like. I am what I want to be, and no-one can take that from me.


submitted by: Anonymous
on: 14 Aug. 2004
in Scarification

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Artist: my+friend
Studio: his+flat
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