Recovered From a Lost Night

A few hours ago I had a perfect post for my site. It was about cutting oneself and how, in lieu of drugs, it is the perfect escape from pain. In fact, I was sitting on the couch tonight and, as usual, as I was thinking about desperate pain, the idea(r) (I'm from the South) of pain came into mind. I wondered (vaguely) where a single blade (strong enough to easily slice my delicate skin) was to help alleviate this urge. You have to understand, though, that before that, I thought about weed, and then coke, and then heroine (or anyother drug that would alter my mind to elimindate this dull aching within) to cure what ails me.

I've always wondered what it is about 'cutting' that attracts people to its power. And it is powerful. Don't let ignorance fool you. I didn't (thankfully) cut myself this evening. I just indulged in other substances (why, oh why, I'm posting this, I have no idea; this blog is now public) that served the same purpose. Cutting distracts you from whatever pain you're feeling. It's escapism in it's purest form. (Nevermind that escapism is not escapism, but avoidism. But anyway, it's all the same boat.) You ever heard about the guy who socks the virgin in the jaw before deflowering her? It's all about destracting from the pain. Not that I am a professional on the subject and I'm sure I have offended 2.6 people reading this, but just thought I'd offer it up all the same.