Printer-friendly version

The last 'ritual' I went throught with cutting was I would cut up my inner thighs [I still do that, it's way easier to hide] and I would cut really deep, then when it started bleeding, I'd smere my blood all over things. I remember I used to clothes to mop up my blood and I'd rub blood all over them as well, I'd wipe my blood on my bedroom walls, I'd rub it everywhere. I even got to the point where I was convinced that I'd lost my creativity for poems because instead of writing and cutting when I got upset, I'd just cut. I felt like I lost all ability to express myself through words, so my notebook I had with all my stories and poems in it, I'd replace what I had to say with my blood. I'd smere my blood all over my notebook pages beecause I felt like that was all I could ever say. I've picked up writing a little bit again, but at the same time I still feel like I've lost it.