I just really don’t understand. How do I find pleasure in such a fucked up thing?
Lately I have been cutting on my legs, I like it because it is so easy to hide. I like that once I cut the blood just flows down my leg. I like the stinging I get when water runs down it, and I like the jab of pain I get whenever I hit my leg on something. I like having the reminder of this ‘comfort’. It’s weird how addicting it becomes. I mean, once you start to cut again, it’s hard to stop. You just want to keep making more slices.
When I was at my worst, I was cutting on my arms and I remember I ran out of room. At first I was shocked at myself. I mean, my whole arm was just covered in cuts, there was literally no space to make a new cut. But then I found the beauty in it. I had done this to myself. I controlled where I would cut every night, and how many times I would cut. Finally they had all accumulated. I felt accomplished. It didn’t take me long to realise I could cut over my more healed cuts. As soon as I was ‘healed’ I could simply make the wound return. In one action I could undo all that my body had fought.
I don’t know if I will stop. I sort of feel like if I do stop, it will happen within the next month or so. Right now my head is telling me I need help. At school I always feel the urge to go talk to the counsellor. I almost just blurted out at dinner the other night how I cut myself, basically because my dad was being an arsehole and was almost making me cry, so I just wanted to let him know how much his fucking bullshit actually affected me. I wanted him to know how badly he makes his youngest child, his daughter, feel. I cannot even handle being around him. He frustrates me so much.
I actually have it in my mind at the moment that I want to move out. My nan lives around the corner and has a spare room. She also lives alone so if I moved in it would be a win-win. She wouldn’t be as lonely and I wouldn’t have to live in this nightmare.
I guess I could talk to my mum about it but she would probably tell me I was over reacting.
I might give it a shot. I may even talk to my nan first and see if she wouldn’t mind, and then talk to mum.