Let me tell you a little something that’s, not necessarily affected me because I do it to myself, been of use to me since high school. Self mutilation. Self harm as others would call it. And self harming comes in many different forms. It can be cutting, burning, over spending money (a way of royally fucking yourself when rent comes your way), sleeping around, doing drugs (no I do not count pot as a drug, it’s a plant that used to grow freely and should be smoked just as free) and drinking.
My self harm you ask? I slice and dice. Not stupid enough to slit my wrist because if I do live, on the wretched off chance, I have these big ugly scars that are hard to hide. Oh wait… I still have some scars that I hide. But I don’t look at them as ugly. Scars on a body are beautiful. For every scar I hold on the inside, I have on the outside. Cutting isn’t my only form of release, I use tattoos too. Because those are also beautiful forms of scaring the skin.. And piercings. (I’ll show those off later)
So I don’t take this razor and drag it across my skin for no reason. I have many. I use my cutting as a displacement of the pain I go through every day. It is something that I not only keep for myself at home when I’m alone and have no way of controlling my emotions or anxiety but something I use at work. They say every person is “supposed to have ways to cope” with their emotions and anxiety and what not. So before you judge me for slicing open my skin and leaving behind delicious feeling scarlet lines, judge yourself for your fucking binge eating or wasting all your husbands money on those ugly Prada shoes that you really did not need, or your best friends boyfriend that you just slept with because it felt good for just a few minutes or a few hours to spend that money or to have sex or to shoot up or do a line or the hours of being drunk. Because we are all one in the same. Trying to get away from our pain. I wake up in the morning unable to drag myself out of bed. Why? Am i injured or sick, do I have some sort of life threatening disease.. Yea I kinda fucking do. You just cant see it. And it’t not what you expect it to be. So what you’re thinking in your head is that it really isn’t there because you cant see it.. Just like you can’t see the pain that people go through with Fibromyalgia, you don’t see it. It’s not like cancer where I would go through chemo and my hair falls out. So it must not be real, right? Doctors can’t always see it either, so they don’t mention it or don’t diagnose it.
I’m not saying what I do is necessarily a good thing but I’m also not saying it is a bad thing. There are always better ways to “help” yourself, this is just mine. Also, this message is brought to you by someone who is sick of being fucking judged by things you assholes cant see. Just because you cannot see my pain, does not mean it is not there. Just like shark attack victims after they get their arms or legs chomped off, they get phantom pains, you don’t see them but they are there.
You do not know what every day struggles someone is going through, so don’t be that person that judges them right off the bat.
Don’t judge a book by it’s cover.. No seriously, I thought 50 shades was gonna be good.. it sucked ball sack.
P.S. what also sucks is when you go all winter and spring and you can hide that shit and suddenly it’s 80 degrees out and you can’t wear long sleeves anymore.