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Young Cutting

I find it strange that I am only 16 and writing about my experience of being a cutter. So young and already finding comfort through self-injury.

I will start by telling what others have already told. That it is an escape, a way of calming down or blacking out. Some even as far to the point that they do not know that they are doing it until it is done. I am not one of those people. I find no escape, no calm, nothing like the above. I find clarity you might say.

I could say it all started back in my childhood when this happened or that happened. But nothing really happened in my childhood. Nothing out of the ordinary. Sure my father was more strict then others. But we were a military family, so it was normal. The only reference to self-injury that I could think of back then would be an article that I read when I was little. Saying that it was an illness and it shared the stories of recovery of two different girls. But other then that nothing. The only exposure to body modification would be that of tattoos on the other soldiers.

No, it was not my childhood that led to cutting. It was until the 9th grade did I find out about cutting for the sake of cutting. I always thought that it was a sickness, but I was fascinated by it. To see the marks on a few of my classmates. There were about three of them in my school that cut. Three in a school of less then 200. And they were not friends or anything, they found cutting by themselves. I always asked them "what is wrong, what happened, do you need to talk?" but they never talked. Just said it was something that they do.

Cutting was always on my mind. I started to use my stage make up kit to make scars along my arm. I thought it looked so beautiful. Then one night, in the beginning of grade 10, I used the tip of a paring knife to make little scratches. My skin turn slightly pink and puffed up where I had dragged the knife. I ran my fingers over them. To feel the little swollen lines on my arm were almost erotic. Over the next month or so, I would scratch the same lines over and over. Some times drawing blood. After awhile I did not need the knife. I would just pull the scabbed skin away. After two months of pulling the skin away, I had some pretty deep flesh wounds. Blood would pour from them. Dark red in color and metallic in taste. I could never get enough of it. Soon I was cutting with any thing I could find. Safety pins, lighters, even the edge of a credit card. My arms would be covered in little crisscrossing bloody lines. I always felt guilty about. That I was doing something wrong even thought it felt so right. My parents never saw. But the kids and teachers at school did.

Next thing I knew I was talking with other people about my marks and they were showing me there marks. We only have 1100 students in my high school. At least 50 have cut at some point. But you always felt like you were the only one who knew about this. The only one with a "problem". The teachers never asked. A few students did. I would always come up with an excuse, but they never believed me. It was so obvious what I was doing, but no one seemed to care. It was almost as if everyone did it.

Then I found BME. Something that showed me that it was not a complete sickness and that many people did it. I would see these beautiful pictures of people's scars and of people cutting themselves. It always looked absolutely beautiful. You might even say that I slowed down my rate of cutting when I started to look at other cutting photos. I did not need to do it as much as I did before. I am still cutting, not as deep as before. But still cutting. Still finding that ever-aching hunger for a sting of pain and sight of my own blood. But now I do not feel guilty about it. I embrace it, dare I say love it.

I will never regret the marks. It may make finding work hard at some points, and it dose make some people around me uncomfortable, but I would not feel comfortable with out them being there. I feel that they were something that was missing in my life and now with them I feel complete. If I had never tried cutting I think I would miss out on a completely new world that I find relaxing, beautiful, and dazzling.

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

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