Blood, spit and vomit

Huoh. En ole viillellyt IKUISUUKSIIN. Ja arvatkaa tekeekö mieli nyt. En edes osaa sanoa miksi. Kai se on taas tätä epäonnistumisen tunnetta joka tuli muroista. Kello on puoli kuusi ja mulla lilluu 300 kaloria mahassa. :( Tai tuskin se sekään on. En tiiä. Mun vaan tekee mieli koska en oo tehnyt sitä pitkään aikaan. Kaipaan sitä tunnetta. Punainen tuntuu nyt niin nätiltä väriltä.
Sitä tunnetta on ihan mahdotonta selittää jollekin joka ei ole itse kokenut sitä. Siksi sitä varmaan pidetään niin vitun sairaana (missä ei ole mun mielestä järkeä, tapa on täysin verrannollinen tupakointiin).
Pari englanninkielistä quotea jotka ehkä onnistuu kuvaamaan sitä fiilistä parhaiten.

"It was raw and bright. I was mesmerized by how my skin was changing color. I closed my eyes and imagined the cells pulling together to form a tight pink barrier. I felt like I could leave the world by diving into this wound." –Abby Sher, “Cutting Made Me Forget My Eating Disorder”

"I took the scissors and drew a line across the raw skin. The stinging was intense. A smile leaked across my face. I wanted to carve places like this all over my body, to climb inside this intense world." –ditto

"The pain was like a sour candy—the first suck so sharp before slowly dissolving. Little beads of blood pulled up to the surface. I clipped another piece next to the first, connecting them in a line, and watched as the blood filled in. I didn’t feel hunger anymore. I didn’t feel lost or stuck or even alone. I was finally here." –ditto

"I did not, you see, want to kill myself. Not at that time, anyway. But I wanted to know that if need be, if the desperation got so terribly bad, I could inflict harm on my body. And I could. Knowing this gave me a sense of peace and power, so I started cutting up my legs all the time. Hiding the scars from my mother became a sport of its own. I collected razor blades, I bought a Swiss army knife, I became fascinated with the different kinds of sharp edges and the different cutting sensations they produced. I tried out different shapes—squares, triangles, pentagons, even an awkwardly carved heart, with a stab wound at its center, wanting to see if it hurt the way a real broken heart could hurt. I was amazed and pleased to find that it didn’t." –Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation

"A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh." –Leonard Cohen, The Favorite Game

"I was trying to cut myself. I wanted to cut for the cut itself, for the delicate severing of capillaries, the transgression of veins. I needed to cut the way your lungs scream for air when you swim the length of the pool underwater in one breath. It was a craving so organic it seemed to have arisen from the skin itself. Imagining the sticky-slick scarlet trails of my own blood soothed me." –ditto

Semmosta. Joskus lisää kun pää toimii paremmin.