To everyone else, the scars and fresh cuts on my arms means i must be an escaped mental patient. Who except this site, could understand that maybe, just maybe, i NEED this. Maybe this is what keeps me fucking snapping. I love the way my razor feels,it's like the best hug i could ever imagine. It's soothing, like a pacifier would be to a baby. i like the pain,seeing the blood pool up and drip down my arms and legs. It's the best feeling in the world. But,no outside person could possibly understand that,now could they? No,i'm just a fucking monster, with a "kick me/tease me" tattoo on my forehead. That's all, just a monster not worth love, or hope, or being cared for. Monsters want love too though,God,is that what i crave,more than the razor,more than the oxy and heroin, its what i need....but..love is not for monsters,So i guess i'll never have it.
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