Wednesday, April 14, 2004

Self-Injury Node

This node is very [personal] to me. I actually wrote this [a long time ago], and just recently found it and decided, after much internal debate, to node it.

The first couple times I [cut] myself it hurt. It [hurt] a lot. I did
it to [punish] myself. I need a lot of punishment.

Over time it changed though. I started to [ENJOY] it! I'm a [freak]. I'm [stupid]. I'm [crazy]. Some would say I deserve to be put to [death] but I'd enjoy that too! That's [what I want]! I don't [deserve to die], and I only
[deserve to live] if my life is [miserable]. I'm [evil].

Now when I [cut] myself I sometimes go away. I don't know I'm even doing it. Other times [I know] exactly what I'm doing. [Sometimes it hurts]. The reason [I'm still alive] is the [fear] I won't be able to cut [deep enough]. If I fail and get caught [life just gets harder]. The doctors and my mom think they're helping but all they seem to do is make that [craving] worse.

That great need to [hurt] myself, and the need to kill myself.

It grows and grows.

I've tried [pills]. I've had my [stomach pump]ed twice. Makes you [feel like shit] for weeks. Worse than that. [Shit] is how I feel now. When I try to [kill] myself and fail it feels like that [fly] that got stepped on and [squished deep] into the shit or like that dead fly's shit.

[I cut]. Then I go back the next day or the day after and use a [blade] to dig under the [scab] and make that cut just [a little deeper] and [a little wider]. Once that has scabbed and [dried] I do it again. And again. I will never be able to wear [shorts] or [dresses].

I wish I didn't cut myself, it always makes people [upset] but [I need to bleed]. "It hurts me when you hurt yourself." I don't understand that.

I cry [crimson tears] almost every night. [Slicing] my skin, [bleeding]…I actually take [pleasure] in it now. I have forgotten how to cry those clear [tears] [from my eyes]...I can only cry those tears of the crimson variety.

Sometimes I wish I'd never started. Cutting is the only thing that
has kept me from killing myself.

My [mom] thinks it's my [best friend]’s fault. (Yes my best friend is also a [self-injurer]). What I do is nobody's fault by my own. I'm just [screwed up] in the head. I was born this way. I have no [purpose].

I spend [night after night] making myself more and more [ugly] and [fat]. I eat and eat. All [junk]. [Popcorn] and [donut]s. [Chips and dip]. [Candy] bars.
[Cookies]. [Ice Cream]. [Cheese]. [Peanut Butter]. [Nuts]. [Sugar]. [Salt].
Everything fattening.

I get [scared] over everything. [Scared of the world] I guess. I am never [calm] except when I'm bleeding.

I wipe the [blood stains] off my [skin] and hide the [evidence]. Everything I've ever enjoyed is [wicked]. "[Computers] are bad." "[Internet] is evil." All my friends are "[the devil in disguise]."

[Burning] ones' own skin is [sinful] [Slicing] up ones' own body is a [crime]. I've never been able to do anything right. Perhaps it is not the things I enjoy that is the [devil in disguise]…perhaps, just maybe, I am the evil one?



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