Drown soda

Dear Boddah
There's certain thing I love about cutting: it doesn't only give you power and control, but it is in this destruction that leads to a very rough road where you can breed creation. You create a escape, a door. And then the cut is alive. I love this thing about the cuts, that I can imagine they're alive even though they aren't alive, I am the one who's alive. But I don't feel alive, no one who's in the hole, drowning, feels alive. So I play with them. When they bleed I can act like they're alive because they're bleeding. The cuts are alive so I'm no longer alone. First there's like an empty cut in your skin, then there's a little shine in it, it's like a wink that the pain gives to you. Then it becomes a red line in your skin, like something you could have made with ink. Then the reality is present in the room and it starts to bleed like a baby who cries seconds after its birth.
Last night I took a shower. I was there, talking to  myself as usual, noticing how my legs weren't burning in the shower like they used to do. I thought "how long's been since the last time I felt that burning feeling on my legs? how long's been since I saw my legs bleeding, covered in cuts?". "Stop that", I said to myself. "This is your choice: you can either cut yourself or smoke a cigarette upstairs before going to bed". It was choosing between one way of destruction and the other. "Cutting".
It was a beautiful chaos. The blood, the blade, the pain, the tears and the laughs. It was beautiful. I started to play with the blade in my fingers and it felt so good. Something was calling me to do it. I pressed the blade against my skin and scratched it. Then I did it. There's still space for more, I used to do it more until I didn't have space but now I just enjoy the whole experience. It is an experience since it feels so amazing, it gives you a different feeling of happiness, something I can't feel with anything else. Leave me alone, please but stay with me.
I told M. I liked her (when did I do that?) and now I kinda like her, I think she's awesome. I told her, I showed it to her and started screaming (not in spanish) "you're cutting yourself! you're sick! You said it gives you 'excitement' but this is not a way to feel excited, it isn't right". We talked about it, she was shocked after she saw my leg and she said it was impressive and that she was going to throw up. She only saw my scars once, old ones, not even red, and scratches. But not this was different, these were actual cuts and it was the first time she ever saw something like this in front of her. Scars, alive, in the middle of their lives, a few days away from death. I couldn't tell my best friend, I didn't want to annoy him.