Blood

by Noise Pollution

I explained the other day that I feel a lot better now.

Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve wanted to see my own blood for a few days. Desperately. It’s taken everything in me to keep myself from picking up a razor and hacking up my arms again.

It doesn’t make any fucking sense. It’s so frustrating, how I can feel so much better, and feel like I’m past that point in my life, but still have these urges. And the thing is, they’re totally different urges than the ones I had before! I don’t know what the fuck is up with that. The temptations I used to get were based on feeling a release; I used self-harm as a means to get my adrenaline going so that I could have one huge moment of feeling crazy so that I could eventually crash from the high and feel normal again. I was actually able to get similar results by forcing myself to vomit, which was probably just as bad for me as cutting myself was. Now, I just want to see myself bleed. It feels bad. It feels wrong. Most of all, it feels different.

I feel so fucking lame. The fact that this impulse is based on something so trivial is really discouraging. It makes me feel like I’m just, you know, kind of a bad person. But I got hurt on accident yesterday, and rather than cleaning and treating the wound, I just looked at the blood, and when it stopped flowing, I’d force more of it out.

There’s still something wrong with me. It seems that my trials aren’t completely over yet. I’m going to try to resist the urge. I’m going to keep going to my support group. I don’t think I’m going to call a Crisis hotline, though. I don’t want to waste their time when I’m not in any actual danger. There’s no sadness behind this urge, no nothing. It’s just there, and it’s meaningless.

On an unrelated note, here’s a song that I like.

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