Stop?For about nine years now, I've been slicing my flesh. When I was twelve, I would sharpen my nails and scratch myself. When the wounds scabbed, I would peel them and watch them fill with blood. Ever since, I've graduated to using razors, searing hot needles, sandpaper, and pretty much anything I can find to hurt myself. I even draw with my blood and save it on papers in my sketchbook.
The strangest part about this is that I don't want to stop. I feel horrible when I get in these moods that bring me to hurt myself, but at least I feel. I can't imagine what it would be like to not be able to feel again.