I have been cutting my flesh for over 10 years. I started around ten as far as i can remember. My relationship with my body has changed drastically over the years, and so my reasons for cutting have changed too. It first because of curiosity, just knowing that I had the power to make myself bleed was exciting. Puberty was really tough on me, everything was changing and it scared me. When everything was spinning out of control I could always retreat to my room, take my little razor (from a pencil sharpener) and within a few strokes I could breathe again. I was always finding new things to cut with, I enjoyed bobby pins because the cuts were so wide. This was my special hobby that no one knew about, no one could control but me, no one could take it away from me. If they tried, it just made me want to cut more.
At A Glance Author Tangle Contact kyuu_ketsuki@hotmail.com When N/A During high school I became more and more withdrawn. It was easier to feel nothing than to feel like shit all the time. It got to the point where I was numb all the time and walking around like a zombie. Cutting myself snapped me out of it, seeing my own blood reminded me that I was still alive. I have an anxiety disorder that I have been struggling with for years, at times when it got so bad I couldn't breathe cutting released the negative energy. Pain has always had a calming effect on me. Hiding the scars was always tough. I think I must have started that trend of cutting up socks to wear on your wrists. Personally I love my scars, I think they are beautiful, but it's hard to deal with the looks and the judgments. People who saw them assumed that I was suicidal or crying out for help. I was trying to do neither. My doctor tried to get me on anti- depressants for years, something i will not even consider. I told him that i would deal with my problems in my own way and he had me commited to the psyche ward for four days. Doctors asked me over and over again why i was suicidal, and they wouldn't believe me when i insisted that i wasn't. I eventually lied and played their games just so i could get the hell out of there. All together I found the way i was treated to be rude and disrespectful.
Another aspect that has made it hard is dating. Though I have a meet a few girls who do the same thing, most guys just don't want to deal with it. I actually ended a relationship because the boy I was seeing told me I HAD to stop. He even threatened to tell my parents. What really bothered me is that he never really tried to see where I was coming from, just assumed that I was messed up and needed help. I've never been able to understand why others make such a big deal about cutting, it's not like I'm smoking and killing myself!!
Now that I'm a little older and I have more confidence, I cut mostly for pleasure, although i do get down sometimes. I have a line that runs from between my breasts, down my belly to about an inch above my clit. I love the way it looks and it makes me feel good about my stomach. My current boyfriend tries to be supportive. He would rather I not do it, but understands that this is important to me. I cut a lot less often now, but when I do he always makes sure that I'm ok and I didn't do it out of depression like I used to. He appreciates that the things I do to myself make me feel sexy and confident. Sometimes I wish he would let me cut him during sex, but I wouldn't ask. It's just a little fantasy, but maybe one day! I've also used my blood in my art work, along with my spit, sweat and hair. That's just something I keep to myself for amusment. Hehe.
I'm now a fairly well rounded and happy person, with an unconventional habit that hurts no one but myself, while liberating me at the same time. I have found a happy balance between writing, painting, cutting and other forms of modification. I love blood, it's the fluid of life. I love the color, the taste and most of all I love seeing it come out of me. I think I also have a vampire fetish. I know it probably doesn't make sense to most people, but every time I make my self bleed I feel a little more real, and little more sane and a little more like me.