This shit is real and really crazy
She is beautiful, and hot, and sexy, and strong.
I could stop there. I mean I made my general point already. But here is the longer version… I cut. Deal the fuck with it. I do not do it cause I want to kill myself. That is like saying all black people steal. It is a stereo-type. In fact when I feel suicidal, my friendly blades never cross my mind. I have enough meds for my head that is the bag of fun that it is to ever require a blade on my wrists. I know the tricks. Swallow your pills with milk, not liquor because you will puke and the milk will ease the burn. See… I know stuffs. I need not abuse the love my blades offer me.
I also want to say I am not a closet case cutter. If I wanted to hide it, I would do it where you can’t see it. I would avoid a bathing suit and shorts. Btw I cut my upper right top of my thigh. I am very precise about it. I do not lose my shit and grab a knife. I use a blade. I have blades meant for art. Got them at Hobby Lobby. And it is art that I create with them. They are an image that shows my survival. They represent who I am. I am not ashamed of them, nor am I ashamed of the fact that I cut.
For the men that make love to me, kiss me, fuck me, use me…. take no notice… or kiss them. Stroke them. I do not care. Ask as many questions as you want. But ask to learn, do not ask to gain info on me to shame me. I am faithful to my blades and I will never profane the meaning of life they offer.
Cutting is NOT about suicide. Suicide is about suicide. Cutting is no more about suicide than anorexia, bulimia, over eating and those three will kill you unlike cutting. No cancer like addiction to smoking, no liver failure like too much drinking can cause… Drugs do horrible things to your body just to feel that high. To feel something other than what you are feeling at that moment. I even get high off of it. All that shit that has you fucked in the head, it builds up until you cant breathe, that all melts away with a buzz that takes over your head. You feel the peace slip in with pleasure.
I can not control other people, or how they treat me. I can not control that I am fucked up and can not hold a job. I can not control that my being bipolar has chased away friends and bf’s…. But I can control how deep, how long, where, how often, and when. I have not left the house without multiple blades in my purse since 2000. I never will.
I do not want or need to be cured of this. I am not hurting anyone with it, and the pain I inflict on myself brings me peace of mind, and a high and pleasure. So just because it bothers you, does not mean you have to right to try and stop me. IN fact trying to do so will only make me go deeper because you trying to take away control over what i do with my own body is an advanced reason I want to cut.
Just wanted to say some stuffs on it…. hugs and kisses bitches