*TRIGGER WARNING*
I can't remember exactly when these thoughts started to appear. I just remember that one day my dad's razor blades weren't just razors, the knives in our kitchen weren't just for cooking, and the scissors with the sharp point in the office weren't just meant for cutting paper.
They became more.
And these thoughts just said "do it, put it against your skin, and do it." And if that wasn't weird, the weirder part was, it wasn't for the sole purpose of causing pain somewhere else so I didn't focus on the emotional pain.
I just wanted to feel it, I wanted to feel the blade gliding against my skin, and slowly watch the blood flow. And I'm realizing as I'm writing this, I should be locked up and have the key thrown away.
Like who thinks about this stuff? Crazy people.
