Thought #11 - Oh Blade, My Blade!

I want you to imagine cold steel scathing your skin, lightly. Not deep enough to actually cut you but enough to make you realize that this steel has mass and volume.

Then you look at your arm and your throat feels scratchy, not because it hurts but because you have defiled yourself to the point of worthlessness. You cannot bear to witness the proof of your self-hatred; therefore you look away from your arm and look straight ahead, imagining the devil standing in front of your face.

You stare with eyes full of tears and think as if you are speaking to him and say, "Is this what you wanted?" As you press the knife into your arm, you feel something. You feel something for the first time in forever. You understand pain once again.

Happiness is not attainable so therefore you must drive yourself so far into pain that you can feel something. Your blood slowly streams down your arm and into your palm. You are holding your life in your hand. It meticulously slips through your fingers. 

You start to feel like you are losing yourself and little by little, you are. At some point you are not yourself but a slave to the thoughts of your mind. You no longer have enslaved your minds but your mind has enslaved you. There is no escaping. Once you lose control, you cannot go back. You start to lose your sense of individuality but instead you start to blend in with the faces in the background.

You become a useless extra and to gain some of that back, you lose a bit of yourself through the medium of a blade. Through the blade you can feel, you can be, you are given an identifier. The blade not only frees you, but it becomes a part of who you are. Just as some use sex, drugs, or alcohol, you use the blade.

It’s your means of private expression.

Slowly, but surely, over time you start to depend upon it for your release and for your fix.

It is your addiction.

And a deadly one it is.

Author's Note

leave whatever thoughts you desire.