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Self H@rm - Blog Posts
Combined days 4 and 5, self influenced cannibalism !!!!
A constellation of scars (with a soldiers story to tell)
A constellation of scars, they tell the story Of a young soldier, beaten and battle weary The taunts, the jeers of those who seek validation The whispers, the rumours of those who see a threat
A collection of memories, they tell the story Of a bright young child, ready to find glory Studying hard for years to come To see their families proud faces When they hit number one
A tale of joy, fleeting yet forever Their mother, their sister, their brother, their father The times spent together with friends Now only a fantasy
The reality of life, an empty black hole The void in their chest where a heart once called home That absence of feeling that clings to their skin The guilt running through their veins that they cloak themselves in
The temptation of pain, just an itch at first Grows to be unbearable in the times it is worst The scabs on their skin that refuse to heal As they are peeled back again and again For that brief chance to feel
The tunnel of darkness continued to grow Would it ever end? They really didn’t know A call from the shadows in the form of a blade Said it brought peace and a moment of escape
The darkness swarmed in on them, promised to keep them safe In the midst of their pain, they didn’t realise it was a cage As the cuts grew in number on their arms, legs, chest and heart They still felt nothing when skin and blade were apart
As the darkness continued to swallow them whole Their loved ones were worried “Where did they go?” And so the acting began, strings of denies “I’m just tired.” They would say, weaving a web full of lies
The fragile strands tightened and coiled Constricting even them into being embroiled. “Maybe I really am just tired, or overreacting,” “Maybe it’s just for attention, to try and feel what I’m lacking.”
The coils wound tight, choking them slowly And though they didn’t realise it, they were succumbing And so the thoughts of death started creeping onto their head “I feel nothing even when cutting, I’m better off dead.”
An attempt was carried out, though they can barely remember a thing Except waking up in hospital, alive and breathing Their mother had found them, draped over the bathroom sink Wrists slit, bleeding out An ambulance was called There was still no feeling
A year had passed and there was still no sign of the end The web of lies had been broken, but the void in their chest remained Even while being smothered with affection There was still no feeling
The world kept rushing past, they stopped trying to keep up months ago But one day it seemed to halt For just a second There was feeling once more
They had been out with their friends Who hadn’t given up just yet On making them feel again Yet another attempt that was set to fail But it didn’t
It was a simple thing really A joke, a smile and then a tidal wave of laughter Seeing the joy that they thought was lost It caused something to stir
An echo of happiness, plucked from a heartstring It resonated through their body And the void seemed to shrink ever so slightly There was life in them yet
Five years passed and they were still no better That echo being the only thing keeping them tethered to this life Why am I not better yet? I should be happy, I should be healed
They began to notice the world The whispers, the rumours Began to notice How the scars littered their skin
Their body, an art piece For those who merely skimmed the surface, it was dangerous and all consuming So they avoided it Criticising the artist to deny their looming feelings of dread To ignore how deep the scars ran
But to those who saw through the critics’ remarks Those who looked deeper Who broke down the walls Who braved the aggression, the masks and the cruelty And saw what lay behind it all A damaged soul, trying to fix themselves with cut hands
The soul of a broken child who grew up too fast A child with a fragile glass heart Shattered to pieces by the harshness of life The expectations, the judgement, the reality It was shattered to protect the holder from the worst But they were still left with their constellation of scars
Those who saw the true meanings were sometimes driven to madness The weight of it too much for their aching shoulders Too weak to carry yet another burden But there were those who could. Those who saw and still stayed Those who showed them, the echo of a life Pulsing through them still
That constellation of scars, that collection of memories, they tell the story Of a brave young warrior, battling enemies even some of the most experienced had never encountered. How exhausted they were, how sick of fighting Who gave up trying to fight back those monsters Who had lost all faith
But who had life in them A pulse that refused to let go Clinging to them even as the darkness led them, Deeper and deeper into despair Echoing constantly, begging for them to hear A pulse that people helped them find
That brought them from their knees That told the young soldier, “Don’t loose hope yet, I’m still beating.” The young soldier hadn’t given up yet They would be victorious
Their constellation of scars, told of memories Good and bad, joyous and despairing The memories of their life past And would tell of the life to come
As the new scars were added, the jeers stayed the same, Unwavering in their goal to hurt
But still, they lived Though their scars never fully healed, their pain never fully erased The void never fully gone
There were good days Where their scars seemed non existent And there were bad days Which broke them all over again
But what was important Was that even if the light disappeared from the tunnel, Even if the dark seemed inescapable, They would always have the pulse in their chest Cheering them on, keeping them going Awaiting the victory only they can achieve. Steadily beating.
TRIGGER WARNING:
fake bl0od :/
keep yourself safe plz plz plz
lmao
WARNING: some digital bloød! not real, just my doodles! be careful
tap ⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇
vent art :(
WARNING FAKE BLOØD ART!!!! JUST ART, NO MORE!
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DAY 5: If My Pain Will Stretch That Far
Luffy can stretch and stretch, but he can't escape his pain.
I have a lot of Marineford-related stories for this Whumptober because I stil haven't gotten over it. And that prompt screamed Luffy, "if my pain can stretch that far", "stretch"? That's totally Luffy. Also I know one of the prompt is sunburn but you can also take it as "sun burn". Luffy, the analogy of the sun, burned by Akainu. I think I'm hilarious. Fandom: One Piece "Character(s) : Monkey D. Luffy Words Count: 1,350 Trigger Warnings: - Blood and Injury - Description of Scars - Past Death - Self-Harm (Luffy claws at his scar until it bleeds and reopens) - Suicidal Thoughts No. 5: SUNBURN Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)
Some mornings, Luffy woke up with no pain, as if the weight of war had never touched his shoulders. Others—like today—he felt like lava was flowing through his veins and every breath was like swallowing hot coals. Everything hurt to the touch, as if shards of glass were stuck under his skin.
Luffy was pulled from his nightmare-filled sleep ( thank you for loving me! ) by a coughing fit, choking on ash and blood. His lungs burned, a raging inferno spreading through his body. His skin was raw, every nerve ending exposed, and the hand rubbing his back, trying to help, was agony.
Luffy felt like he would never be able to breathe again. After what seemed like an eternity (you know what’s the funny thing about time? it stretches out), Luffy managed, slowly and painfully, to catch his breath. He was prostrate on the ground, the tears on his cheeks like molten gold.
“Luffy-kun? Luffy-kun?”
His senses slowly returned to him: hearing (Rayleigh calling his name worriedly), sight (the sun above his head, burning, burning, burning), taste (blood and dirt on his tongue), smell (smoke and rotting corpses), and touch (everything hurt).
Luffy threw up, barely avoiding Rayleigh's feet.
Luffy lay down in the grass, arms and legs spread like a cross (was there a cross on Ace's grave?) and caught his breath, forcing air into his body despite the pain. Why did even breathing hurt? Luffy wanted to scream but it would hurt too.
Luffy didn't want to hurt anymore.
“Luffy-kun, can I touch your arm?” Rayleigh asked cautiously.
Luffy wanted to say no. Luffy didn't want anyone to touch him anymore.
(Ace had held him in his arms and Ace was dead.)
“Okay,” Luffy replied, his voice hoarse and broken.
Rayleigh gently grabbed his arm and helped Luffy sit up. Luffy rested his head on Rayleigh’s shoulder, the wind a blessing on his sweaty skin. Rayleigh handed him a canteen, metallic and cold under his fingers.
“Drink slowly,” Rayleigh advised.
Luffy’s arms shook with fatigue as he brought the canteen to his cracked lips. Water spilled down his chin and down his neck to his torso where his scar pulsed and burned. Listening to Rayleigh’s advice, Luffy drank slowly, washing away the blood and dirt in his mouth. Luffy hadn’t realized until then how dry his throat was. No wonder he was having trouble breathing.
(It reminded him of the deserts of Alabasta, dunes and golden sand as far as the eye could see. Ace was still alive at that moment, his crew still with him.)
"We should take a break from training today," Rayleigh suggested. "You're not in shape."
"No," Luffy protested, turning abruptly to Rayleigh. "I have to get stronger."
Luffy couldn't stop now. His friends were counting on him to get stronger. He couldn't stay weak, unable to protect the people he cared about. He couldn't lose someone again.
Luffy's vision blurred as his head spun until he couldn't tell which was up from which. Rayleigh caught him before he fell, stopping him from hitting his head hard on the ground.
"Rest today and we'll start training again tomorrow," Rayleigh said softly as he helped Luffy lie down properly.
But Luffy didn't want to sleep, because when he slept, nothing stopped his mind from taking him back to Marineford, to the screams of the dying, and to Ace's heart in his hands. When Luffy wasn't paying attention, he could still see Ace's blood on his hands.
"I don't want to—”
I don't want to be alone.
Luffy was sure he hadn't said the words out loud but Rayleigh looked at him with so much understanding that he ended up doubting it.
"You can't stay like that, you're covered in sweat and dried blood. Go to the river and wash yourself and then I'll show you some stretches," Rayleigh suggested.
"Silly Rayliegh, I don't need to do any stretching, I'm already elastic," Luffy laughed weakly, tugging on his cheek to prove his point.
Rayleigh smiled affectionately, a nostalgic glint in his eyes. "Stop protesting, little monkey! Go wash yourself."
Luffy stuck his tongue out at Rayleigh who walked away laughing. Leaning on a tree, he stood up, feeling the tension in each of his muscles, and headed towards the river, avoiding the passage of the wildest animals. Luffy didn't like washing, water—even if fresh water had a lesser effect—always made him all flabby and drained him of his strength.
Luffy sat down by the river, breathing heavily, the short walk through the forest having exhausted him. He let his feet touch the surface of the water, the icy temperature almost biting against his skin. Luffy let his feet sit in the water until he couldn’t feel them anymore, until he was numb to all sensation below his knees.
When Luffy finally stood up, walking a few steps to the middle of the river, he didn’t wince when the rocks at the bottom of the water cut into his feet. Luffy watched as the flow of blood was carried away by the ebbing river.
In the reflection of the clear water, Luffy could only see the scar that marred his torso. A bloody red cross, marking the place of his defeat. The proof of his failure. Even after months, the skin around the wound was still damaged and blistered, ugly and angry.
Luffy clutched his heart tightly, wishing it was numb as well. His fingers dug into the soft skin like claws, tearing at flesh and tissue. A terrible sob squeezed his chest, begging to be let out.
He couldn't breathe.
Luffy clawed at his heart, covering his fingers in red like an animal, bent double under the weight of the pain. His blood pulsed violently in his ears all the way to his fingertips. Luffy could hear nothing else. He could still feel Ace's heartbeat between his fingers, disappearing by the second.
He couldn't stop.
His knees buckled beneath him and Luffy fell into the middle of the river. He didn't see the translucent water turn red around him as blood poured from his heart down his limbs. With his eyes closed, Luffy couldn't feel the difference between water and blood. Not when he was drowning either way.
He couldn't breathe.
Luffy wanted to rip his heart out of his chest, the barrier of his ribs insignificant in the face of his grief. Blood stuck to his skin, seeping into his pores. (The last time his hands were covered in blood, Ace was dying in his arms.) Luffy clawed and clawed, like a pirate searching for treasure. If he gave his still-beating heart to Ace, maybe Ace could stay with him.
He couldn't stop.
His vision blurred as black and white spots danced beneath his eyelids. Dimly, Luffy realized that his head was underwater. Maybe that was why he couldn't breathe. Blood seeped into his lungs as Luffy let himself be pulled along by the now crimson river current.
He couldn't breathe.
It was cool to have brothers! They lived together in the forest, hunting alligators and playing all day long. Sabo would find treasures for him in the junkyard and Ace would hold him by the shirt so Luffy wouldn't get lost.
When night fell, they would fall asleep in the treehouse they had built, their pirate flag flying proudly in the wind. No wild animal (or angry gramps) could reach them here and Luffy had never felt safer than between his two big brothers.
Even when Luffy got eaten by an alligator or drowned in the river, Ace and Sabo always came looking for him. Luffy was never alone again.
Luffy drowned alone.
.
.
.
There was a hand in his.
Marked by age, covered in scars and calluses.
For a moment, Luffy thought that Gramps was by his side. But it was ridiculous, Gramps would never hold his hand like that, gently yet forcefully. As if the person holding his hand never intended to let go.
But Gramps always left.
(Everyone always left.)
(Ace was gone.)
The hand was still there.
I want to hug Luffy. Someone hug this traumatized child!
i cut myself with a dr pepper can
i cut myself with a doctor pepper can/ so funny
hhahahaahheehehheehahhahahahaa dr pepper ahhaha
Emily started cvtting at a young age. She can’t really remember when but it’s been apart of her life for a while. It stated off small, stuff that could oass off as from a let of going outside and doing random shit until she went way to deep and she didn’t know why but she wanted that feeling forever and ever. It felt so fucking good so she started doing it more and more until she didn’t like the feel of where she did it from all the scars (does that make sense?) her parents tried to stop her but overtime they realised that it’ll probably never stop, so they just let her do it
moving house soon, I'll finally have my own room and I can cut as much as I like at night, what are my parents gonna do? watch me sleep? nu-uh.
im never opening up to my mum fully, because how am I meant to to tell the woman who gave me life, that I don't want it anymore
TW VENT
So basically, I'm js gonna start from the beginning. this Wednesday that js went I came home from school put the kettle on to make tea blah blah blah, but then I look round and fucking see MY SCISSORS AND PLASTER BOX. so then I'm panicking, feeling violently sick and i go up stairs, cry little, wash my face. my mum tells me to do my hw and just sits in front of me the whole time and then I go to put everything away and leave but she fucking tells me to stay and talks to me abt how my sister burst into tears the other day in class because I told her my intrusive thought abt cutting my neck (I'm an idiot ik) but I even told her it was an INTRUSIVE THOUGHT. so yeah. and then she was asking if I want to die, I lied obviously. then she started guilt tripping me, so basically my friend had cancer (she's not anymore) and my mum asked me if my friend knew, I said yes and she was like, "imagine how she feels, she's been fighting for her life, and you've been damaging yours!". I mean, fair enough, but GOD. yeah. I'm gonna kms, oh wait no I can't. they've taken everything from me and apparently have been looking in my "secret" place for *months* now.
hahahaha, I'm doing great 👍
love how I post this and then instantly the next day relapse
my scars fading<<<<
having more space to cut>>>>
why cant ppl js leave me alone
Vent
oh yeah, today's been great, definitely didn't relapse. definitely didn't nearly have a panic attack because I thought blood was dripping down my arm in lesson. definitely didn't keep walking into the guy who made s*x jokes about me for half a year last year. definitely not getting angry and overwhelmed by everything and getting yelled at by my parnsst to sort my attitude out.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
tired
wish I could be happy all the time and not just when I'm with my gf or something is genuinely funny
need to have an excuse
one like = one cut
whats wrong with me cutting myself? like I know its bad and people don't like it when I do. but seriously, I don't see the problem
ever just zone out and start questioning everything??? keeps happening recently, stressing me out slightly.
me looking round the classroom, hoping no one saw me flinch when the teacher started shouting
the urge to cut is so strong but my parents are always coming into my room after I've been up there for like 10 minutes since I gave them a letter explaining everything. I'm such a hypocrite but still
fucking LOSER oc i made
sfx makeup
not real
i just like to do super realistic makeup
last warning
i’ve been clean for over 2 months and promised my bsf i wouldn’t do it again…
but i was so triggered today i just had to.
ik i’m an ana blog so this post is a bit off-brand for me but i js thought my cvts looked kinda cool tdy