the patron saint of self-injury

we are a strange group, the self-injurers. such an antiseptic term. it's a favorite amongst psychiatrists and therapists. self-injury. self-mutilation. cutters, some of us call ourselves, with a wry smile and a nod of acknowledgement. burners. bangers- some of us bang our wrists till they bruise or split and bleed. because the pain brings focus, control.

cutter. i prefer the word over 'self-injurer'. clean and to the point. no need to skip around the subject, pretend it's not so bad. it is. it is bad. it's fucked up and it's horrible.

but it works. if it didn't work we wouldn't do it. but it works. for that short time it is the sweetest perfection attainable, pure, clean and hard and bright and right there, right then, you are a god unto your own skin. the wrath of god... a wicked, self-loathing god bent on eventual self-destruction, and further... ressurection.

because the blade or the burn or the bang is rarely about a wish for suicide. it is suicide prevention. it is a last ditch effort, an emergency brake. you can feel this. you are still alive, you bleed, you hurt, you can control the ugliness, and you will be all right. for a little while you will be all right.

rarely does it hurt. my friends say, how can you do that to yourself? when they see wounds, fresh or old scars. i could never do that to myself.

but then, the pain is not what you would expect it to be. you feel the sharpness, a quick release, but it's not at all the pain you'd get from an accident, from someone else cutting you. it numbs. it boils in your stomach and explodes and your veins buzz and your skin crawls and for a little while it's a high that's unbelievable. giddiness takes over- at least for me- and it's joyous, primal, perfect, through the tears that sometimes come- each cut is fuel to the crazy fire burning through my head.

and when it recedes, the real pain starts. but it is dull. it stings, it throbs, and the blood dries but it's nothing like it should be.

we are a strange group, indeed. bad wiring, mixed signals. pain is safety and pleasure for us. pain is sacred, a secret world to wrap ourselves in. the soul's osmosis- bleed the pain into the air, let it level out.

you do not understand, and we do not expect you to. just listen. it is the most important thing you could ever, ever do.