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Monday, January 28, 2013

On Cutting ...

So I still wrestle with cutting myself.

Not proud of it but that's the truth.

I had a bad day on Saturday.

In the early afternoon I started making a numerical list of all the bad things that were happening to me that day. By 4pm I was in #23.

It was a pretty shitty day.

I wanted to cut myself on the drive home. I had two boxcutters in my bag and a handful scattered in my car

I thought about doing it on my wrist, suicide style, but that area started hurting and aching, like a phantom pain of sorts. It honestly hurt as if I had done it already. Ouch.

So I slashed my hand. My left hand. One quick motion on a part of the top of my palm that I usually cut at.

I bled for fifteen minutes.

I couldn't stop the bleeding.

I tried to stay calm, putting pressure on the gaping wound with a wretchedly dirty towel I use to clean off dirty windows.

I bled. A lot.

And if I had actually gone ahead and cut my wrist like I had wanted to, I think I may have died.

The wound was so deep that you could almost see muscles inside.

This is a picture of the wound two days later.

I feel so vague about this.

You know?

1 comment:

Varsenik said...

Hugs and hugs and hugs. Cutting fucking sucks and I wish that I didn't feel I needed it even four years since I last cut.