Why I Self Harm

The sun is setting on a another sweltering July evening. I peer outside my window with my stoned eyes looking at another majestic picturesque sunset. The full spectrum of colours on display the yellows and reds inflame my mind as I’m standing glaring outside my bedroom window viewing the sublime evening panorama of a luscious summer sunset.

I’m feeling nervous as I prepare my body my anxiety laden mind to record another video in which I articulate to the world the trauma of being me. In this video I’m going to be elucidating in a short video why I cut myself why I have a peculiar tendency to lacerate my arm with broken pieces of glass. The sick pleasure this masochistic act gives me. Last night I performed this act in secret with my bedroom firmly locked to conceal my behaviour from my house mates.

I close my windows to cut out all the summer time noise pollution closing my black dusty stained curtains to create a perfect intimate ambience to facilitate the recording of this important video that will explain why I cut myself. I turn on my oriana floor lamp with the speciality crimson light bulbs that illuminates the room with the danger crimson colour. It’s a apropos colour to be used when I discuss my proclivity to self harm. I love this lamp love turning it on at night especially when I’m high all alone in my private alcove listening to exemplary meditative classical music. The colour red beguiles me it electrifies me sexually and emotionally it represents in the recesses of my consciousness danger and sexual bliss.

I survey my room look at my surroundings with see the Chester draws which I’ve made into a shrine a memorial of my dead mother. There’s a collection of my most cherished photographs of my mum her suicide note its stands as a daily reminder of her enduring memory I don’t want her to be forgotten don’t want to neglect to let all the joy all the love she bestowed upon me fade away. There’s the Chester draws with the collage of my mums images her suicide note with a crucifix hanging directly above as a testament to my faith in a just loving god and my belief in the compassionate teachings of Jesus Christ.

There’s a collection of posters plastered on my magnolia wall. Posters of my artistic and literary hero’s a joy division poster a Lana deal Rey poster a image of Virginia Woolf and Sylvia Plath my favourite poet. Also there’s a art print of starry night above my bed. These posters that dot my room give me hope they inspire me to write passionate poems and short stories. On my black door is a iconic video poster of the last of us my favourite video game that brought me to tears on several moments as I played this seminal immersive video game. Next to my single bed with my black duvet with a white flowery pattern is a old fashioned bookshelf with a multitude of exemplary novels and poetry collections to satiate my voracious appetite for reading. By the other side of my bed is my Chester draw a shrine I’ve erected as a monument to my mums memory. On the opposite side of my bed is the tv unit my flat screen tv my PS4 my blue gaming chair with its leather upholstery.

This is my room which is emblazoned in crimson from my lamp. It’s a stiflingly hot day as my body is dripping in sweat it’s almost unbearable but I’m desperate to record this video to delineate why I cut myself the sick pleasure this nighttime self harm produces. I look at my fresh self inflicted wounds which I treated this morning with liberal doses of disinfectant. Even with my body intoxicated with cannabis and a variety of potent painkillers I am in excoriating pain. I touch the deep cuts I am in pangs of agony just to lightly touch these wounds. For this video I’m going to be bearing my arms revealing my lacerations showing off some skin to the world being completely vulnerable to my YouTube audience.

I’ve laid out my causal attire i will be adorning my skinny body for this latest video. A slender sleeveless black joy division T-shirt with the unknown pleasures album cover. My favourite rock band who’s melancholic somber post punk music has given me many hours of solace mitigating my suicidal thoughts. I wont though be bearing my Legs I’m wearing skin tight black jeans to preserve my modesty. My acute body dysmorphia precludes me from parading my scrawny unsightly legs. The time is right I need to record this video forthwith due to the torturous heat no air conditioning windows firmly closed entrapping the heat in my room.

I find the act of breathing onerous as the heat the excitement of talking about why I self harm overwhelms me. I have to law down for several minutes on my bed to avert a full blown panic attack. The oppressive heat is preventing me from commencing my short video. I take several hits form my cannabis laced bong in a effort to assuage my anxiety to calm my nerves. The cannabis hits me hard once again elevating to a new stratosphere of consciousness a plain where I can lucidly and effusively talk about my self harm. Then I stand up with my fingers tapping incessantly against my palms a symptom of my anxiety disorder. I wipe the beads of sweat from my face now I can begin the process. I’m recording a low resolution video on iPad camera to be edited uploaded onto my YouTube channel. The iPad is positioned on the top of my bookshelf I’m standing sweating profusely and my arms shacking unable to maintain a semblance of composure. I saunter to my iPad press record leaving 60 seconds to be in position to deliver my elucidation on self harm.

It’s recording I am still calm ready to talk speaking to a metaphorical psychiatrist the Camera.
“ hello everybody I’m recording this video to talk about my abnormal tendency to self harm to cut my arm. I’ve hidden this habit from my family from my closest confidants since I began this atypical habit in the aftermath of my mums suicide at the age of 13. The ptsd of losing my mum having this bottomless pit of sadness swirling around my teenage mind left me lost unable to carry on to function in the tumult of being a teenage girl without a mother. I discovered the psychological salutary practise of self harm one lonesome dreary evening many months after my mum untimely passing. I read about this practice that was prevalent amongst teenagers encumbered with depression and alienation. I wandered what it would feel like to cut my arms to express my pain to myself to unload this pent up trauma to feel alive for once. I was unable to divulge my grief to anybody I felt suicidal with the hole left by my mums ahh rowing death. Seeing her listless body hanging from my living room door had left wounds scars that were inflicting me on the inside. I had composed a abundance of poetry but it this prolific poetic output wasn’t offsetting this inner universe of darkness. I had to take a drastic action that wasn’t talking to a therapist or confiding in a friend. Self harm seemed the perfect method to express my internal torment. I had “accidentally” dropped a glass in the kitchen a carefully placed several of the deadliest chards of glass in my pocket to perform this masochistic act in the seclusion of my locked room. As i cut fervently into my left hand leaving a arm soaked in blood and ravaged my a injurious act of self mutilation I felt the pain but concurrently had feelings of euphoria. I was crying uncontrollably from this release of toxic emotion. For moment the depression had abated as I felt like a haunt being able to sense pain. This was my secret that I hide from my father my friends never unveiling my wounds keeping my lacerated arms clothed in long sleeved shirts. The idea of being exposed of being a mentally ill teenager exhibiting symptoms of a untreated disorder filled me with dread and a sick thrill to have this dangerous dark secret habit. For years I carried on this habit severing my arms when I was impaired with severe depression and suffering form a punishing bout of anxiety. The clandestine act mitigated my dark proclivity to end my life just like my mother had. Yesterday was the latest instance of body mutilation as I maimed my scared arms once again. I needed this its like heroin I get high from seeing the glass pierce my skin seeing the blood cascade from these wounds. I performed the self harm like numerous times previous getting high on cannabis devouring several shots of whisky to negate the excruciating pain. Look at these arms their fucking disgusting ( I pointed my hideous scared arms into the camera as a tear descended down my ashen face) These arms are a reflection of my fractured mind with the untreated wounds from my traumatic adolescence. I hate myself and yesterday the self disgust the need to express the hell of being was strong I needed to take a blade of glass and damage my arms to feel a modicum of humanity. I’m sick In the end I’m sick of the god damn fucking terminal pain sick of the panic attacks I need a hour or two when I could escape. Sorry for acting so erratically and hysterical I just needed to vent to talk for the first time of my penchant for self harm. I know I desperately require therapy and a diet of anti depressant medication but its terrifying to be that vulnerable. All I have is this channel to disclose my battle with depression my atypical habits. I hope you found this video enlightening please leave a positive comment like my video and subscribe to my YouTube channel”

My face was submerged in sweat in tears in snot I was a mess. I ended the video still crying for the first time in months. I turned off the red light as the dream like ambience that had been engendered from the lighting vanished. I opened the windows letting in some music needed refreshing cooling air into this balmy room that pulsated with heat and melancholia. I lay catatonic on my bed in a state of shock letting the cool evening air hit my face. Performing that video was akin to torture therapy I had assumed it would be a rudimentary video but this well of emotion erupted from my eyes.

I Hate Myself And Want To Die

Can’t abide the pain of being me anymore
I hate myself so fucking badly and all I desire is for this hell to end
Viewed myself in the mirror today what a disgusting repulsive human I am
With gnarled disfigured teeth and horrendous pasty blotchy skin

I hate living in this body living in my head
Hate living with the anxiety the relentless self loathing the depression the panic attacks
It never abates it there like mould infecting me slowly being promulgated round my body like a cancerous tumour
Today though the misery of my forlorn alienated vapid life has grown too onerous to endure any longer I want death by suicide

Nobody loves me I’m a ghost waiting for the inevitable death
Nobody calls or enquires about me or asks me out for sublime evenings out any longer
I am gone from the realm of humans into this sequestered life existing bereft of meaningful human company
Never get kissed touched no one laughs with me I’m so fucking alone in this godless soulless universe I ache I yearn for a modicum of validation to reaffirm my humanity

I am a forsaken abandoned soul
Condemned to the ash heap of the world with all the other exiled lost souls
All I a want now is death
The pain my memory will vanish as I will die in a nihilistic brutal manner hanging my body in my lonely one bedroom flat

Red

Red the spectacular awe inspiring colours of the sunset
As I gaze at this psychedelic vision on the horizon
Whilst instantaneous getting high on this potent cannabis
Images memories from my past my turbulent tragic adolescence flood into my stoned consciousness

A singular tear forms on my left eye lid
It runs down my face as the dazzling crimson sunset evokes vivid memories of my deceased mum
In this sunset I hallucinate my mums cascade of auburn hair
I imagine her emerald green eyes starting intensely with warmth and boundless love back at me

I see her ethereal face in this majestic red hot picturesque July sunset
Outside my window in my dank flat I’m transported into another time and place
A time of innocence when I wasn’t burdened with sadness with the hell of my adulthood
I can taste my mums lustrous hair her perfect iridescent smile
I imagine having her hug me holding my tear drenched ashen face placed firmly against her bosom

I’m not here in reality lm lost in the realm of fantasy
Lost to the past dreaming of a life where tragedy hadn’t befall my family
I take another hit from my pipe a deep breathe the powerful psychoactive cannabis takes me higher
The sunset beauty brings me joy through the tears as I’m beguiled by the array of polychromatic colours that illuminate the landscape

The End

Not long before I cease existing
I’m close to the end when I will take the decisive step to end my life
I can see the black oblivion of nothingness that will consume my soul
I can see my consciousness evaporating into another realm into the cosmos

The end is nigh when the torture of existing in this wretched body will end
I cant endure the hell of being me anymore
The anxiety the panic attacks the self harm the alienation the self loathing is too onerous to bare
I want death I long for the flickering light of life to be exhumed by the cruel hand of death

I’ve yearned for suicide for years ruminating the most preferable method of death
Surmised that death by hanging is what I deserve to die in excruciating agony
Having my neck asphyxiated by a rope I don’t desire a tranquil painless death I desire the blinding acid pain of death by hanging
I have meticulously planned my suicide making a itinerary of the day the drugs the music the note

Tomorrow I will end my life
I will render my body lifeless through a deleterious action
I want the permanence of death
Wanting the pain to die with me as my body limply languidly hangs from my bedroom door frame killing myself in the exactly same manner as my mum 7 years ago

I’m A Beast

Can’t go out tonight had turn down my friends fervent requests to go out
I made the fateful error of looking at myself in the mirror without my makeup
A hideous malformed creature appeared in my bathroom mirror
With cracked blotchy and a pallid unappealing complexion

Teeth when i smiled looking gnarled unsightly not exactly immaculate Instagram teeth
A body bereft of personality a flat emaciated body
Dead languid eyes devoid of vitality no sparkle no vive just a sadness
I cant venture outside and inflict my deformed physical body on the rest of humanity

I’m a beast who needs to be confined to isolation
I’m a beast cover me up in a veil to mask by glaring imperfections
Even with a abundance of makeup applied to my face I’m still this unfuckable freak that men shudder in horror when they glimpse my visage

I’ve made a pact with myself to never peer into the mirror again
Removed all the mirrors in my bedroom placing them in my cavernous closet
The horror the hell of seeing me in the flesh having my illusions smashed in a 30 second scrutinisation of my facial features
I’m a beast who will never find love
I’m a beast who will never be touched held caressed by another man

The Rave

Dancing for hours floating on air
In states of rapture to the incessant beat
My mind my body transported by the molly into a euphoric loved up sensation
Psychedelic colours flow in my eye as the music and sound appear as one

My friends that dance in blissed out states appear to me like ethereal orbs of light
There bodies like celestial heavenly beings with iridescent colours that are emanated from their beautiful bodies
We hug we dance in each other’s arms the connections of friendships are deep tonight thanks to the tonic of the elicit stimulant and the invigorating music

All my anxiety all my melancholy all my social phobias has dissipated tonight
I’m engulfed by hundreds of people in a abandoned warehouse dancing to the music the DJ is blaring out at a deafening volume
We are all one experiencing the sublime beauty of music and our humanity
For hours no words are expressed only dancing sweating with eyes that appear like glorious illumines constellations of the cosmos

The sweat flows from my petite body
I’m alive tonight losing all concept of time and place
Lost in this transcendent place that is heaven
Love bounces off the walls i share a group hug with my affable friends I’m floating through time and space the pleasure is unbelievable its a pure joyous high sensation

Echoes

Outside my window I hear a cacophony of birds singing
The wind howls in this bleak autumn day
There a blanket of grey in the skyline that haunts my town
I hear the distant echoes of dogs barking children playing mothers bellowing

Inside my fortress of solitude there’s a absence of colour
I look around inside my domicile and am haunted my the isolation of my life
Nobody to share my life with an empty bed the bitter chill of my condemned adult alienation
Nobody to smile to laugh along with a icy silence that’s permeates my adulthood

No soul knocks on my door anymore no phone calls
Nobody to hug to kiss to embrace there nobody out there to alleviate my emotional suffering
I hark back to happier times in my childhood at uni when i lead a active gregarious life filled with colourful vivacious people
The laughter the joy the hope for the future now is just fading echoes like footsteps in the sand that vanish through the sands of time

I ache for somebody who wants to hear my laments of sadness
A soul who wipe away my tears who will acknowledge my depression
Who want disparage my pain my asocial proclivities
Theres nobody out there I’m been banished to the vast wilderness of my endless isolation