I remember when I first started cutting. I did it as a last resort to focus on something other than what I felt. This was before I understood my mental illness and my gender identity and such. Of course, I still cut from emotional pain, but most of the time, I do it just because. I've been trying to stop because of the affect it'll have later, but... I don't want to stop. It's my drug. And nothing can replace it. Why?

Because I like the aftermath.

Most people do it for pain or blood and can easily get that through a red marker or an icecube. I'm looking for the perminent mark that doesn't wash off and one that hurts later. I know it sounds sickening and it's romanticization, but I like how cuts look. I hate myself for romanticizing something so awful. I hate myself for being addicted to self harm. I hate it I hate it I hate it