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You can’t always bestrong. Tonight’s where I lostit. My strenght failed me, I fell into tears, and my oldways. I couldn’t take this never ending pain, that’s constantly eating away atme. II lost thefight. The fight between myself and myemotion. The fight between myself and mypain. The fight between myself and myblade. I have no idea how long I can keep thisup… There must be some way, to stopfeeling. To stop feeling pain, and every terriblething. Even if it’s only for a littlewhile. There must be away… Do you know theway?
“Why’d you do that?” Or, “How could you do that?” Questions we get asked all the time if people see our scars, or cuts, or markings of any sort, and they’ve figured out the truth. So, what do you tell them? Spill the beans? Or just make up some story, “Oh, um, long story, and you would only get it if you’ve done this” kind ofthing? I just tell people that I’m overwhelmed, cover myself, and walkaway. But, how are you supposed to deal with that? I mean, no one really would understand unless they’veself-injured. For now, lets just call them, um, SI virgins, sure, whynot? SI virgins don’t really understand the pressure, and the taking-under kind of feeling you get when you don’t selfharm. They don’t understand that release, that beauty that we can see throughit. Pain scares them, while pain comfortsus. Blood grosses them out, while blood freesus. So, how do you answer the question, “Why’d you do that?” or “How couldyou?!” I just walkaway.