cutting

You know how people say that people who cut themselves usually do it so that they can feel in control of something? That they like the feeling of being able to do something that no one but they have a say in? Well, I don’t think that’s true. Maybe some people feel that way, but not everyone. So many people have so many reasoning’s for what they do; you can’t really say *most* people do something, because they don’t.

Some people might just do it for the attention, because it makes them feel important. You can usually tell those people right away. They’re the ones who use safety pins and barley scratch themselves; only doing just enough to gain sympathy and that oh so craved attention.

Others might do it for the pain. The feeling that tells them they’re still alive inside. That no matter what has happened, they are still human and they are still alive. But those people have it tough. Because eventually, some will come to the point when the pain doesn’t even hurt anymore. And then they have to ask themselves what that means. Does it mean that they have finally lost all of their humanity? That despite the fact they’re living and breathing, they aren’t truly alive anymore? And if that’s the case, will they ever feel again, or is it all just a lost cause?

Some people might cut because it is, in fact, something they have control over. Something that, despite everything happening, is their own little secret. Something they don’t share with anyone else because if they do, then they might not be able to control it anymore either.

And then there are the people like me. The ones that cut for the exhilaration. For the feeling that they are truly strong and brave enough to face anything. The kind of people who don’t just make slashy cuts on their arms and legs, but cut designs, so that when they scar over, they are left with something beautiful and inconspicuous. A tiny trophy meant for their eyes only. Mine is a small symbol on the inside of my left ankle. A symbol that stands for the thing I wish for the most, but will never truly have. *Freedom.*

No one ever sees my scars, and I don’t want anyone to see them. I don’t cut for attention, or to see if I’m still alive or in control. Fact is, I already know I’m dead inside and that I have no control, and I’m happy that way. If I’m dead I can never be hurt and if I have no control I can never be blamed. All I cut for is the trophy at the end, when the bleeding stops and the wounds heal and all I’m left with is that small, insignificant scar that’s really very important, because it proclaims that I truly was brave and fearless, no matter what.

But like I said, you can’t really say *most* people do something. There are probably many other reasons out there that people cut themselves. Reasons that some might not even be able to fathom. These are just my late night musings on the strangeness that is my mind in turmoil. I’m not sorry if I offended or insulted anyone with this little insight to my brain, and if you feel the need to flame me, I really hope you do. I would love to hear your thoughts on these things. I’m sure I’m not the only person who thinks about stuff like this.


**if you like my rant, go read controlled pain by brokenrose. it's also about cutting. but if your just going to be a mean asshole, don't bother. no one really cares what you think. oh, and to the person who told me to just go and die, if you don't care or want do know, WHY DID YOU READ IT IN THE FIRST PLACE???? need i remind you that this is a PUBLIC website, and i have just as much right to write here as anyone else, and to write about whatever the hell i want to. i usually don't care if people flame me, but you went to far when you told me to go die. death is not funny and you really shouldn't tell people to do that. one day, someone just might listen to you. thank you to everyone else who reviewed, though. i love you all.

*Laken*