THE FOLLOWING Could BE TRIGGERING FOR SOME. Please read at your own risk. This was written instead of cutting. A powerful piece of work as I went through the steps. This is what I use instead of a razor to define myself as human. I am sharing it in hopes that someone will relate and maybe use it for thier own SI behavior or be inspired to write out their own expierence with SI. After all we all SI differently. This is easily shown by reading my own personal story below. Something that gives more effect to fellow person that the cuts do. People tend to overreact seeing SI. Hmmmm....Everyone please be safe and Love yourself. WE CAN SURVIVE, AND WE CAN OVERCOME. BE STRONG!!!

I feel numb. Perhaps in a way that's good. Not having to feel.

I would love to return to slicing my flesh away in a side to side motion.
Literally thrashing my pink twin blade razor across my forearms again and again.

Not even feeling the pain. As one cut, two cut, losing track as a minute passes.

It's a marathon.

I'm feeling relieved, once the blood sprouts from my once sealed flesh reminding me I am human.

I stop only when there's no flesh left to terrorize and watch intently
As the liquid that gives me life ooze out.

AH! I am alive.

Here is proof of my exsistence.

I am human.

I am a person just like everyone else.

If I were like the Zombie I felt like, I couldn't bleed.

And then I wrap my tattered arms in tissue. I wrap them like a present anxious to see the result.

I feel chaotic inside, no longer numbs as the minutes pass by.

I wait.
It's never fatal.

The blood always stops until I begin to peel away the layers and wince as the tissue is torn from the deep cuts, now rebleeding.

My arm covered in a messy gore.

No skin visible, some blood lightly surfacing.

Dried blood everywhere.

Physically they burn.

I feel that now. I think it's not that bad.

I turn on the facet, knowing from times before that it will sting.

It does.

The blotches of dried blood vanishes and I am left with the reality of the cuts.

I study each one, some deeper than others and still believe it's not that bad.

There is no skin left untouched.

I am an artist.
This is a masterpiece.
I want to cut more.
It's not that bad.

Sometimes it's impossible to hide.

And proudly I'll show my artwork.

I warn them it's not that bad.

I don't know what they expect to see.

Papercut little slices.
Oppose to long deep cuts.
Perhaps they are looking for flesh.

I reveal my creation.
They are taken back.
Speechless.
Astounded.

Their reaction tells me, they think it's bad
.
All they can muster from thier shock ok this craziness is "why?".

They don't understand.
They can feel.
They can cry.
They are human.

I try to explain but it's pointless.

I can't understand their concern.
Perahps I don't want to.

I am human again.
What is wrong with that?