Of Cutting Myself and Self-Harm

Well over the course of time, I’ve had my fair share of suicidal tendencies. Thoughts and debates with myself occurred for me since I was about 15 I guess. But I didn’t really intend to kill myself. Like I didn’t do anything crazy with the intention to kill myself. I know it’s just wrong and I am being sort of irrational.

Friday, 30th of June. Morning. I was cutting a whole lemon, preparing for my lemon water. Half of it is squeezed in a bowl while half would be cut into lemon slices to be mixed with the lemon juice and water. Long story short, I accidentally cut my finger deeper than ever and I was shocked with the sudden sight of a deep cut and blood pouring right from a medium sized wound. I stared at it for a long time before I realized that I have to put pressure on it and have running water over it.

I didn’t feel any pain at all. Not even a slight sting! I was just staring at it until my mind started saying tons of stuff like:

Wow. The gush of blood shocked me but it kinda looked pleasant isn’t it? Oh, blood + cut = Pain. But where’s the pain? Oh yeah, I was so used to cutting myself back then that the sight of it didn’t throw me off! WOW.

Before I started to be actually disgusted with myself, you know what I was doing? I was still trying to cut the lemons while my finger is fucken bleeding like I was stabbed! It was so disgusting that I was swept back to reality.

Last night, I was afraid that I’d relapse back to cutting myself. The sight of it enticed me. It was like a good diversion of a negative energy to something more physical. I wasn’t able to sleep well but the next morning, I realized that, no, I wouldn’t go back to that hell hole where I got addicted with cutting myself. No I wouldn’t go back to my pathetic self, resorting to wounds and blood when things went awful. No I will not let that happen again.

And I will cover my scars with art. I will remember the pain but I will replace them with renewal of some sort.


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