Cutting Through Flesh

First time after many, many years a strange thought sneaked into my mind.

I want to cut myself.

I never did it before, though I considered it, just like all of the others lost cases of children from, in one way or another, problematic families. Or maybe I should use the expression I preffer these days - unhappy families. There's no need for a problem to feel the lack of happiness. Especially for a small child, confused teenager or young adult. That's how far I got at least, I hope one day I won't wish for magic which would create a bit of  happiness that I can't make myself.

I still want to do it.

I think I would feel good. I think physical pain would be so natural and normal to fight with. I'm not suicidal, you don't need to worry about that, although a chance of somebody somewhere worrying about me feels comforting in a way. Thank you.

I want to see my blood dripping from a simple cut.

Simple, because it's so easy to understand the pain that follows when skin is hurt. It is so easy to see life in running blood. It is so easy to accept the pain caused by a sharp knife. It has to hurt and it has to stop hurting. So very different from people who hurt in most disgusting ways one could hurt another. How can they still hurt me so much after all I've gone through, merely with being who they are?!

I love physical pain. It makes me feel normal and alive.

But cutting through my flesh would be easy, too easy, like getting drunk when you can't face a problem or simply ignore the problem as such. Instead I'm gonna hurt some more. I can take some more. For now.

But I still want to do it.