cooper-cutter
February 23rd, 2011, 01:50 AM
The last time I cut was four nights ago.
Before then I hadn't cut for ages.
Second last time I cut was two years ago, when I lived alone in residential housing on campus at university. My family is close and I found being away from everyone horrible - plus I didn't fit in there, not at all.
I promised my girl friend after that time I would never do it again, times I had thought about it but I never could bring myself to do it, because for some reason, promising someone I loved that I wouldn't seemed like a promise I needed to keep.
Then I just snapped - if thats the word you could use.
All day I was thinking about it, what I could use, where I could find something sharp enough, if we had detol (we didn't)
The my girl friend was away at work, she was running late and we had had a fight the night before, about something stupid I had hid from her. I felt terrible. I felt like I needed her to know that I hated myself for this little something, now its nothing but that day for some reason it was the worst thing in the world.
i couldn't think straight, I searched for a Stanley knife, I found a blunt one, cut a few lines on my upper arm. Then I used every single kitchen knife, they were also all blunt, the serrated one fucked up my arm a fair bit. Then finally I found a paint scraper, with a new razor blade as its scraper, I cut a huge line across the whole back of my left hand. then all up my arm and about 30 - 35 cuts all up my thigh.
I listened to a song as I did it, and sang along.
I couldn't cry. It hurt but I couldn't cry.
I didn't feel bad for doing it, it felt like it was normal.
When my girl friend got home she was so sweet, brought me dinner and I couldn't bare for her to find out - but she did, saw all the blood on the sheets and freaked out. Told me I was going to have to see someone.
But you see, I didn't want to kill myself.
I just wanted to do it, wanted her to know that I was punishing myself.
She said she didn't want me to, that she didn't even care anymore, it was silly.
But I still think it was a good thing to do.
I don't want to cut, but then again... I do.
Does anyone understand what I mean?
I'm so confused,
I enjoy my life, I have a nice family, a beautiful girlfriend.
Nice house, travel a lot, have a lot of respect from my peers and friends.
But I want to cut.
Why?
Why do I want to do this to myself?
I don't want to seek help, or see someone because I'm not crazy.
I'm too busy to be crazy or mental.
I guess I'm coming on here to talk to people, who are in the same boat.
I need some strength.
XO
Before then I hadn't cut for ages.
Second last time I cut was two years ago, when I lived alone in residential housing on campus at university. My family is close and I found being away from everyone horrible - plus I didn't fit in there, not at all.
I promised my girl friend after that time I would never do it again, times I had thought about it but I never could bring myself to do it, because for some reason, promising someone I loved that I wouldn't seemed like a promise I needed to keep.
Then I just snapped - if thats the word you could use.
All day I was thinking about it, what I could use, where I could find something sharp enough, if we had detol (we didn't)
The my girl friend was away at work, she was running late and we had had a fight the night before, about something stupid I had hid from her. I felt terrible. I felt like I needed her to know that I hated myself for this little something, now its nothing but that day for some reason it was the worst thing in the world.
i couldn't think straight, I searched for a Stanley knife, I found a blunt one, cut a few lines on my upper arm. Then I used every single kitchen knife, they were also all blunt, the serrated one fucked up my arm a fair bit. Then finally I found a paint scraper, with a new razor blade as its scraper, I cut a huge line across the whole back of my left hand. then all up my arm and about 30 - 35 cuts all up my thigh.
I listened to a song as I did it, and sang along.
I couldn't cry. It hurt but I couldn't cry.
I didn't feel bad for doing it, it felt like it was normal.
When my girl friend got home she was so sweet, brought me dinner and I couldn't bare for her to find out - but she did, saw all the blood on the sheets and freaked out. Told me I was going to have to see someone.
But you see, I didn't want to kill myself.
I just wanted to do it, wanted her to know that I was punishing myself.
She said she didn't want me to, that she didn't even care anymore, it was silly.
But I still think it was a good thing to do.
I don't want to cut, but then again... I do.
Does anyone understand what I mean?
I'm so confused,
I enjoy my life, I have a nice family, a beautiful girlfriend.
Nice house, travel a lot, have a lot of respect from my peers and friends.
But I want to cut.
Why?
Why do I want to do this to myself?
I don't want to seek help, or see someone because I'm not crazy.
I'm too busy to be crazy or mental.
I guess I'm coming on here to talk to people, who are in the same boat.
I need some strength.
XO