by Nemo_Me » Thu Apr 13, 2006 2:07 am
I used to cut myself a lot. I kind of became a cutter. I figured since most other people liked hurting me I could as well try and see why it was so much fun. It wasn't fun but it made me feel better. I started cutting myself with anything, even in school when I didn't feel good I hid my scissors in my pocket and went into the bathroom and cutted a little bit. My arm was a mess but I usually just wore long sleeve t-shirts and covered the worst part with my watch. When that place was filled with wounds I started to cut near my shoulder, then I wouldn't have to worry about people seeing it and the other wounds healed. I didn't really realize how sick it was until one time I got very drunk with one of my friend. When I got home finally my knive was on the desk. I took him and put to my hand. At first I only pushed very lightly but when I felt the pain and saw the blood flow the adrenalin rushed to my head and combined with the alcahole (and I'd had much of it) I couldn't think straight anymore. The only thing I thought about was the more pain I felt in my arm, the less I'd feel pain in my soul. I don't know how deep I went but in the end I passed out. The next morning I woke up and I've never felt more horrible in my life. My arms were so badly cut that I couldn't even hold the knife, but the only thing I wanted was to cut again and make those feelings go away. But I had to lie there, trying to hold the knife to my arm but my hands were too weak so I kept on dropping it. Then I decided that this had gone on long enough. I had to stop.
Meaning of Nemo. Nemo is a latin word and means nobody. And therefor I will be Nemo forevermore.
I'm an angel, angel of the universe, who doesn't belong.
I keep on hearing tunes, yet no one has turned on the radio.