As the hours pass I am unable to sleep,
These are the nights I fear the most.
These are the nights where you really learn about yourself,
Where you have time to analyze life.
As I look down onto my arms, my wrists,
My bicep, my legs, the back of my knees…
Every line has a story to tell,
These stories seem to spawn from hell.
My hand trembles as I feel the cold touch of steel touch my skin. What a painful pleasure. An addiction I tried to break but never separated myself from; the broken pieces still hanging on for dear life. One little cut, that’s all I need… no one will know. I’ll make sure of it. Nice and small, right there, right behind the knee, no one will ever see. Oh how the razor taunts me, speaks to me. “Come on, one last time for old times sake. You’re a good liar, you’ve lied about the mysterious cuts, scratches, scars, strangulation marks, you’ve lied about them all before. I taught you how to lie. I taught you quite well. So how about it..? One last time? For me?” I have to stop myself. I can’t fall back into what I once was… I can’t go back to that night, the night I almost went too far… the night…
I quickly searched my dad’s toolbox. Where the hell is it? I know he has a box cutter here somewhere; I’ve used it before. Ouch! Dammit, I found the box cutter. I suck my finger tasting the sweet, sweet blood knowing soon there will be more to feast on…. MUCH more. I quickly pocket the box cutter and walk slowly to my room. As I open the door I smell the isopropyl alcohol, the slight smell of butane gas also fills my nostrils. As I flame sterilize the blade I fantasize about the feeling, how I will feel after releasing this pain. How I will feel once the endorphines come rushing out to release pain, stress, tension. How the endorphines will make me happy once more, make me happy enough to make it. Make it another month… Empty promise, I know it is. I’ll be lucky to last a week tops without this sweet drug, this synthetic high. Oh well, the future doesn’t matter, all that matters is now. All that matters is the pain I feel NOW, not later.
The alcohol turns to steam and sizzles as it touches the red hot blade further sterilizing it and in turn cooling it. 1…..2..slice. Cringe. The razor still held firmly in my hand. Mmm, sweet satis….what… where is it?!?! Where is my high?!?! I don’t want to chase my times prior but I just nee–slice. Slice. Slice, slice, slice. Ahhh. The warm blood trickles down my arm as I hold it up to my mouth to feast. Mmmm yes, the life force is so sweet. Too much, I want to throw up now. I shouldn’t still be bleeding. What the fu— too many too deep. Oh god, I’m going to die aren’t I. I have bitten off too much this time haven’t I? Getting weaker… I turn off the Bunsen burner, wouldn’t want a death AND a fire. I crawl my way to my sewing kit and pull out a leather needle and some thread. I crawl to my bed and yank my sheets. The pillow hits the ground. This will be my resting place if I don’t succeed.
I stitch myself up like a master seamstress. Getting cold. Really cold. Darkness is setting in, Thanatos is that you? Please send a reaper to do your bidding. I’ve always wanted to feel the cold androgynous kiss of a Grim Reaper. I can’t keep my eyes open much longer… my world…
is
going
…
I wake up a few hours later. My self stitching saved my life. Where is that hoodie; I need to hide these wounds. That was fun, I’ve gotta do this again I promise myself. As for now, I’m hungry. I hope dinner is cooked…
For many people pain is seen as a negative thing or something that cannot be completely avoided but one that should be learned to cope with. We do not usually seek for pain and it may sound unusual to understand how a person can derive pleasure from pain. However, pain is one of the most desirable thing for S/M lovers.