I was about fifteen when I started cutting myself. My favorite thing to do was to pierce my skin with safety pins. What I would do is I would take the pin and stick it into my wrist and then I'd pull out the pin and use something a little thicker (most of the time using a thumb tack) stick it in the hole then stick earrings and paperclips in the holes. It was my way of getting rid of the pain that I held deep inside. There even came a time when everyone started to see what was happening but I didn't care I just learned to hide it more.
At A Glance Author SuperFlyGirl63 Contact SuperFlyGirl63@bme.anon When A year ago Artist me A few years later I had discovered a way to release more pain inside; I began burning the tip of the safety pin and then sticking it to my skin. This now gave me such a new and intense rush. When I'd stick the hot pin to my bare flesh not only did I feel an immense rush of pain but I could hear loudly the sound of my skin bubbling and burning away and I held the pin tightly on my arms and legs. When I could hear all of the bubbling had stopped I'd have to rip off the pin from the hole since it would seem to want to stay in there. I'd do that and seconds later blisters would form. Blisters were ugly and did nothing for me. The only way to get rid of blisters was to pop them or burn them away.
Seems like just as I'd get done burning the new hole I was back to lighting my lighter against the pin just to burn away again at the same hole. I'd burn at the same hole until it seemed as if I were no longer burning flesh. I knew I wasn't due to the new odor. The new smell of no longer burning flesh but a distinct smell of burning muscles would fill my room. This is where I would tend to stop. I would let one last blister form only to second's later get my safety pin out once again to rip open the blister. Only deep wounds were left. Some had gotten so deep it was hard for my pins to even reach any longer. The only thing I could do after that was begin to make new holes.
As so it begun, seemed like every day I would be at it again. Soon I began to make little drawings or pictures instead of random marks of pain. My first work of art seemed simple, yet it had been one I was most delighted in. I had placed the letter "T" on the inside of my wrist. Now with a few random burns and a deeply cut T I needed more things to ease my mind with everything going on. So I began a new project. New shapes and new words began to fill my arms and parts of my legs. I started with simple stars and short one syllable words then they turned into more complex pictures and longer sentences. What was once a short "lie" soon became "lies haunt my every dream" Pictures of simple lines and shapes soon became knifes and guns. My body is full of tiny scars hidden on my skin.
When days had turned to weeks then into months the old burns turned into just tiny, red marks. Freshly burned ones with scabs coming off were ripped open to expose them to the air. Soon I come to find there is no where left to put new marks. I began to strive to hear to bubbling and tearing away of my flesh. I began to panic not knowing what to do next so I began to rip open old scars and re-burn them. I found out that burning scar tissue hurts more than the initial cut. But I didn't care I was just glad to be able to hear the bubbling once again. The scars again began to turn into scabs and ripped away once again. The burning never caused blood because the hot pin would stop it before it could do anything but the ripping of scabs made them bleed uncontrollably. I would get scared. I couldn't stop. I was out of control. I knew I needed help. I didn't know what to do.
I'm now eighteen years old and I've left the childish things behind me. I soon realized that I don't need to release my pain by tearing away my flesh and burning threw layers and layers of new and dead skin. I began to find other means of releasing pain, hurt, and disappointment. Some turn to drugs or full out suicide but not me. Suicide is selfish and it's not a way out. My friends helped me learn that. Without them who knows that I would of done. The scars left will be there forever and I can't change that but hopefully I will never have to turn to it again. Cutting and burning is not cool and it's not full. There are other ways out. I've found some and you should too......