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Yeah, It Happens...

I used to cut, not to die just to feel, or just because, or just to get that sense of relief. The scars are all over my upper thighs, just sitting there reminding me of that feeling of... completeness. Of being whole. But I can't do that any more, or rather I shouldn't- so sometimes when I need to feel that pain, to get that distraction from the whirling mess in my mind, or to snap myself out of the floating sensation, of having no connection to this earth, I hit myself, as hard as I can.

I wish I bruised, wish I could see that it happened, that I did it to myself, but I don't really. I bash at my head, punch myself in the eyes, slam my arms down on the edges of tables. I think I'm a masochist- I just need to hurt myself. I don't think anything is wrong with me though, it's simply how I deal with life. Outside of hurting myself, I am a gentle person. I am a successful person. I even come across as a normal person. But I know that most people wouldn't accept me as I am, hurting my self. I can only hope, right?
livingwiththepast livingwiththepast 18-21, F Feb 9, 2013

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