same as last night... i guess...
"I wouldn't say that cutting was pleasurable, but there is
a sense of euphoria that follows cutting yourself. The
quick pinch of pain and the sight of blood snaps you back
to the surface and you start to appreciate being alive."
"It was never, like, 'I am going to hurt myself and put
myself in the hospital.' ...It is that I am going to give
myself the pain that I need to feel to put the punctuation
on this shit that's going inside."
...On one occasion, during a heated argument with Prince
Charles, she picked up a penknife lying on his dressing
table and cut her chest and thighs. "Although she was
bleeding her husband scorned her," Morton writes. "As
ever, he thought she was faking her problems." During a
fight on an airplane, when Charles insisted she accompany
him on holiday to Scotland, she locked herself in the
airplane bathroom, cut her arms deeply, then began
smearing the blood over the cabin walls and seats.
Charles, according to Morton, believed that her cutting
was nothing more than melodramatic attention-seeking.
...She also felt no control over her life...she even
feared that Buckingham Palace would lock her away in a
mental hospital and take away her children.
"It's like having a drink. But it's quicker. You know how
your brain shuts down from pain? The pain would be so bad,
it would force my body to slow down, and I wouldn't be as
anxious. It made me calm."
"Everything is plastic, we're all gonna die anyway, so why
does anything matter?"
Because these marks are usually outward manifestations of
inward pain, one researcher has called self-
mutilation "the voice on the skin.
Blood wounded hand bleeds
Red blood makes me feel real
I am alive I feel pain otherwise numb
I may as well be a plastic baby dolluntil
I cut myself and bleed and see the blood bleeding from the
Not plastic after all. . . but human babydoll.
"What better way (at least that's the way the thinking
goes) to gain control than to do something to myself. I'll
beat you to it. You won't hurt me anymore. I'll do it to
The Living Dead by Gertrude Smith
Society requests certain things of people. They
are requested to conform; those who don't are suppressed
under the title of failure. Society requests you to be
educated, to get a job, to have a family, to buy into our
Capitalist economy. Society requests you to get ill and
die, not necessarily because it wants you to, but because
it is a necessity. The cycle of life continues.
You pay your taxes, you vote in elections, you
feed your neighbour's cat when they go on holiday. You are
a model citizen, smile.
You bunked off school, you're on the dole, you're
homeless, you don't exist. You are the weakest
Don't break laws they're for your safety, don't
see, don't hear, don't think, just smile and comply.
Comply and die, don't comply and die sooner. Comply and be
dead, surely it's the same thing?
Buck the system, scream and shout, spit and bite,
procrastinate all you like. Reality is called reality
because it is real. You cannot flight reality, or rather
you can but if you do you won't win. So swallow bitter
pills, though you don't like the taste and dream.
Illusions in ivory towers can never be shattered. Your
dreams are your value. Don't dream of death. You are the