I feel the pain but no one sees it, is it real?

Why do people injure themselves? How much time do you have? I suggest you get comfortable; you’re gonna be there awhile. The reasons are as vast and varied as the many people who do the damage to themselves. The main stereotype is that you’re a depressive teen girl, you hate your lifeparentsschoolboysbodyetc. and you are seeking attention. Newsflash: there are far less painful and stigmatized ways to get attention than self injury, folks.

So, why? I will only speak for myself in this post and I will only speak to recent revelations on the matter, because I feel they hold something to be rather true of many people and I’d like to get opinions on the matter. I’m going to be blunt about this (shocker, I know) but I think being honest about this subject is essential to getting the truth out. Sugar-coating does no one any good, in my honest opinion.

I burned myself again this week for the first time in about 6/7 months. I started by looking at my arm, seeing how smooth it was, with the almost invisible scars, and envisioning red, symmetrical lines, puffy, all down my arm. Realistically, I would never be able to burn my entire arm. It’s far too painful and it would take at least an hour. I’d probably pass out from the adrenaline or something. But this does not stop me from visualizing it and that gets my heartbeat going. I was still glued to the bed, crying at this point but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I then scanned the house in my head for the location of a lighter and some tweezers. Found them! Now I needed to coerce myself out of bed. After about 20 minutes, I’d managed my inner battle. Another 10 minutes and I’d done the first mark on my inner wrist. It was nothing. The second was the rush I needed to get me going. That rush of adrenaline was pumping. I now did a third and then a fourth, because I must have odd numbers (OCD). My arm throbbing, I laid down in bed and hid the tweezers and lighter under my pillow. I felt numb. My arm, however, felt warm and tingly. I would move it whenever I needed a jolt.

I eventually fell asleep. I now felt like the biggest fuck up. Months of abstaining down the drain. Months of practicing skills, avoiding the temptation,etc. were all a a waste. I wanted to punish myself and I certainly did. Twice.

The sick, twisted thing about self injury is, the scars. The beauty of the scars afterward. I look at them and I love them. I touch them lightly. I love them. They’re mine. I want to share them with someone who will treasure them and care, but no one does. They are just shocked and concerned. I want people to feel my pain. I am showing you my pain, can’t you see it? This is a small preview of how I am hurting. Why won’t you acknowledge it? Why do you look away? Why do you ignore me? If I bleed, will you pay attention then? If I scab, will you care? What will it fucking take for someone to acknowledge my pain and to care about me?! I care about you! I bleed and bubble and blister and scab for you. I punish myself for you. I bet you don’t even realize it. Yep, it’s all for attention, alright.

 

So fucking what if it’s for attention? Human beings need attention.

 

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