caught myself contemplating calling someone a pussy over a self-harm photoset from 15 years ago. which i wanna say is something i never would've thought of at the time, but i'm not actually thinking of the person i was in 2011, but the person i was when i started cutting and uploading pictures of it to tumblr, when this was a feasible niche to blog abt, around late 2016-2017.
i wanna say i wouldn't have, and i'm not sure why the thought occured to me now, since i don't actually cut that much and when i do it's usually pretty shallow, it would be a bit hypocritical even, and maybe that is why. i think when i used to cut as a teenager, for all the abuse it earned me, it used to be engaged with as that, a person mutilating their body, subjecting themselves to grievous pain, lashing out in a way that, however apathetic, merited engaging with it as a real problem, an actual reaction, whether that was medicating or calling me a fag or whatever.
i feel like people rarely respond to it that way nowadays, if they react at all it's a much more passive hostility to my having willingly destroyed my body, in the past tense, without really addressing that it's an ongoing process. i've been lectured by a few people on how sinful that is but they seemingly never ask if i'm still doing it. i don't know if that's bc my demeanour is changed, if it's the optics that changed—the methods i use leave little blood, though my arm is still pretty obviously mutilated. it upsets people to look at, but once i cover it, whatever despair they might've experienced is missing from their tone. i assume it's mostly that i'm an adult now and ppl respect my—clears throat—bodily autonomy somewhat more, though ironically most of the people that have seen these scars in person thought i was underage, so i rly don't know.
at times i wish they didn't. i wish they'd get meaningfully upset with me and berate me more or hit me or do something. tried to bandage me over. threaten to put me in a ward. my mother would bind my arm so tight my fingers lay dormant thru most of class, so much at times i thought i'd succeeded in damaging something severe.
but the counterpoint to that was that this girl, this senior, would invite me to sit with her during break and rest my head on her lap. because she had also been a cutter. i like thinking i was doing it for her
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