The sweet solitude of my room was my best friend, alone I could release the tension built inside without judgement. I started off with knives figuring that would be the obvious weapon of choice. It slide across my wrist smoothly and I was intoxicated by the feel of the cool metal. “Not too much pressure” my subconscious would remind me as I bathed in the feeling. I had no intentions of suicide or serious damage, just the release I craved. The knives were working there magic at grazing my skin but I needed more.
I thought hard on what I had heard about cutting before and razor blades being used, but where would I find one of those? (Please do not take this as a guide of any sort, I strongly discourage it.) I figured the only household objects containing what I needed was a shaving razor or a pencil sharpener. Using logical thinking the pencil sharpens blade would be easier to detach and the sooner I could be back in my start of pure indulgence.
I quickly found what I was searching for, a pencil sharpener! Poking the tip of my knife into the screw of the sharpener I released the blade and fumbled it against my left wrist. It felt strangely comfortable against my already grazed skin, I slid it across with the same pleasure as the knife but with a large difference. My skin split the path of the razor and quickly followed the crimson evidence that I was now a self harmer, and it felt better than anything I had experienced. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want attention. I wanted to feel alive when I was numb inside.