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.

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 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

Alive

Take the menacing blade of glass in my right hands that is erratically trembling
I hols my left arm on the floor and cut with the sharp blade cutting into my underarms
Laceration after laceration is made in another bout of euphoric self harm
Blood cascades from the deep wounds onto my wooden bedroom floor

I feel no pain the profusion of alcohol and painkillers numbs to the pain of this masochistic deleterious act
When I with reckless abandon are cutting into my underarm i feel alive
The pain of my depression is a transformed into a euphoric pure state of being
I’m able to articulate my self loathing my disgust my desire to not exist on my body

I purge this toxic suppressed emotion in a nighttime act i commit in secret
In the heat of the night I’m alive no longer trapped in anxiety laden numbness
Now i can succinctly visually communicate with myself the hell of my condition
Tomorrow i will be writhing in excruciating pain but now in the ecstasy of the midnight self harm I’m alive no longer feeling like a mindless zombie able through cutting into my ravaged body to transcend this emotionally constipated state and feel something anything

Voices In My Head

Lost in the walls of my mind
Lost all alone with these venomous inner voices that reverberate inside my damaged mind
They scream they bellow when i loom at my ghastly visage in the mirror
They scream freak ugly scum as i shudder

These voices bark at me in the night
They tell me to kill myself
They drag me down into the mire they make me feel worthless
As the voices grow more boisterous as my self loathing intensifies I descend into a vicious cycle of suicidal thoughts

I cant sleep cant escape these inner voices that torment me
I want to make these acerbic voices fade away
I hear them when i interact with strangers they engender a feeling of so paranoia

Voices like savage barks from a wild dog haunt me in my perennial alienation and clinical depression
I want to muffle these voices but they are unrelenting i cant abate these voices
Barking and howling preventing me from breaking out of my malaise

I am lost in my darkness with only these vicious howls of torment for company
Nobody to hug to kiss to share laughter to nullify these voices in my mental ill head
I scream for these voices to cease torturing me
They carry on advising me to end my vapid pathetic life these voices grow more vociferous as my illness solidifies in my introverted personality

The Serenity Of My Bubble Bath

After a day of anguish and stress I retreat to my bathroom
Draw a luscious bubble bath with serene inducing aromas that soothe my anxiety
I remove my sweaty cloths and disappear into a sea of bubbles with
My naked body is transformed into a euphoric relaxed state in the bliss of my bath

The music of Elgar blares out of my Bluetooth speakers
I hear the resplendent sounds of the cello reverberate in my intimate bathroom walls
I am lost in the beauty of this moment forgetting myself
Beguiled my the combination of the bubble bath and the majestic music captivating me

My naked body tingles with sensation the anxiety evaporates as i am soothed by the serene ambience of my bathroom
The cello plays I’m in ecstasy I forget myself
My ugly pallid body is caked in bubbles i am lost in this mediative state
I fantasise in this moment of falling in love having a divine masculine creature taking me to higher realms of sexual ecstasy

Its been 20 minutes my fingers are wrinkled my skin though is clean fresh
My mind feels cleansed from this invaluable soothing daily endeavour
The bubble followed by me getting high on psychoactive cannabis enables my neurotic body to cope with the daily trauma of being me existing with a deleterious anxiety disorder

Freedom

I put on my noise cancelling headphones
Then the rhapsodic classical echoes into my ears
I’m in heaven laying on my bed letting the serene luscious music take me to a higher plain of consciousness
I close my eyes as psychedelic visions appear in my stoned mind

I am free now in a high state with the cannabis and the sublime music working in tandem to ameliorate my anxiety laden mind
The thoughts of sadness of a suicide of self loathing dissipate as the glorious sounds of a symphony life to a elevated otherworldly state of being
Theres no feeling of dread no heartbreak no depression nothing but the pure beauty of Mozart

I am free in my solitude with my closet confidant my most treasured music
The chains of my impaired personality are broken as my soul soars into the heaven i am exultant
The hallucinogenic visions continue to wash over me I’m getting higher and higher with my eyes closed in rapturous sensations

The symphony plays no distraction no hum and drum of urban life
The mind is in a a serene place bereft of melancholy
I meditate to the ethereal music that takes me to outer space
The cannabis and music has transformed my weary languid condition