I was recently diagnosed with Bipolar affective disorder.
This was written when I relapsed some time ago. I thought I’d share.
I’m proud to say I’m officially done with this part of my life. I will never need to break disposable razors for the blades. I don’t miss having to hide my body and I don’t miss the scars and I don’t miss the way it calmed me. I really want everyone to know that cutting is something that will become an addiction once you start. At least that was my experience and I don’t wish it upon anyone. I remember sitting on the bathroom floor the day I cut myself too deep and it really had me questioning what the fuck I was doing. Why harm yourself when everyone else tries to harm you too? This world is full of people who want to hurt you and why hurt yourself even more? I don’t miss cutting myself. I remember when I did though. Self – harm is still an issue and it starts at a young age. People don’t stop cutting until they scare themselves by cutting too deep. Well, I can’t say that for a fact but that’s the way it happened for me.
“Each cut, each scar, each burn, a different mood or time. I told him what the first one was, told him where the second one came from. I remembered them all. And for the first time in my life I felt beautiful. Finally part of the earth. I touched the soil and he loved me back.” – Secretary
Self- hatred is so comfortable to me and it has never gone away.
I’ve found hope in bood and razor blades
I’ve found beauty in cuts and bandages
Bleeding has been the easiest part of life
Bruises on my heart can show for it