Its been a long time. Its been a long time since I have seen you my friend. My sharp-straight-edged little friend. I have missed you just as much as I miss my father. You were there for me when he was absent. Holding you in between my thumb and pointer fingers, I just miss having you around. We created masterpieces together. We expressed the pain together and we feel closer to each other, like my” favorite person” with my BPD. The way you glide so generously across the skin of my forearms, diving deep under my flesh and settling near my arterial veins. Such Russian roulette and such a climax.
I haven’t cut in a long time. Maybe 3-4 months, someone go back and do the math for me. I have kept my skin pure and I have gotten its glow back. It is soft, colored and clean. No red has flowed down and disrupted the flow of my skin tone. Except for those scars, which I have mentioned look like bare artifacts of what happened in the past.
People make jokes, sometimes about trying to carry ones weight on their shoulders. Like in a “Wife Swap” episode i saw, this lady made the other husband wear a belt with weights in it to understand how the kids felt. This is kind of like that but imagine having them right there, on top of your arms for the whole world to see. The faint purplish red of something I did to myself.
Why do I do this to myself? There are canvasses all around me. I don’t mean this like I am going to go around and stab each and everyone of you (I am not going to do that just so we are clear) I mean like, look at nature. Look at the sky for one and second look at the whole picture you could paint on. Look how humongous it could be. It could be fucking epic. Do not waste time with the little canvas on yourself. Keep it bare, naked and beautiful; and ladies or gents with tats, those are beautiful as well.